A Little Escapism
by oceana
Summary: When characters from a certain popular trilogy start showing up in Sunnydale, it's up to Spike to put things right. A simple story with an improbable life-span. Updated: Ending in sight.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Joss Whedon, others own rights to "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer". Tolkien Estate, others, own rights to "Lord of the Rings" books and movies. I borrow characters from both without personal profit.

**A/N: **An early birthday present for Lamiel. Any semblance of accuracy to Tolkien characters seen here is purely her fault.

Sixth season. Takes place immediately after "As You Were" in Buffy and the very end of "Fellowship of the Ring". Mostly book-verse, a little movie-verse may slip in.

**A Little Escapism **

Prologue

Spike was not drunk enough. Not to his taste. He'd started drinking when Buffy left and had no intention to stop before passing out.

Unfortunately, he'd only had half a bottle of whiskey left to begin with, and while this might be enough for most humans, Spike was only just beginning to feel the effects. Or so he thought now, gazing balefully from his chair to the door of his crypt.

He would have to get up and walk out that door if he wanted more booze. This thought frustrated the vampire, who was in a more hermetic mood having just had his heart ripped out and stomped on for the hundredth time by the same should-have-killed-four-years-ago woman. The fact that he could still remember her, and the reason he'd opened the bottle in the first place, was enough to get Spike up.

His legs were unsteady, which was encouraging. He also had trouble opening the door, better still. Unfortunately the night was crisp and cool, which returned his senses to him somewhat. His vision sharpened in the dark and walking became easier than it should have been by any rights.

"At least I can get to the store now," he muttered, encouraged by the idea of more whiskey. He took two gainful steps before falling flat on his back.

Or, more accurately, before something knocked him down.

"Huh?" he managed, looking up at the starlit sky above. The alcohol made a more dynamic response – while possible – less appealing. He took a moment to retrace the previous second in his mind, and remembered something about blonde hair.

"Buffy?" he asked, hope flaring that perhaps she hadn't had enough after all. Perhaps she'd decided to come back. Perhaps this was foreplay.

He raised his head slightly. There was an arrow above his feet, pointed directly at his head. Hope burned brighter. The arrow was notched in a bow, and held in place by slender fingers that glowed in the moonlight.

Spike lifted himself up on his elbows. The person holding the bow – while slender and with long blond hair – was too tall to be Buffy. Also, they were dressed in an outfit Buffy probably wouldn't be wearing. Green, with leather boots and a cape. All of which were glowing rather distinctly in the moonlight.

"What is this place?" the archer demanded in a lilting British accent, also unlike Buffy.

"Sunnydale," Spike answered. He found himself quite comfortable resting on his elbows and decided he could perhaps remain here for the night. Assuming this stranger didn't try to kill him. Actually, the idea of violence seemed like a nice antidote to his current depression, as long as the assailant wasn't human. One way to find out.

"Are you human?" Spike asked.

The stranger's brow furrowed slightly, as though uncertain what to make of the question. "You ask whether I was born of Man?"

"Of woman, more like, but yeah."

The somewhat androgynous figure took a moment before answering, though the arrow in place did not waver. "I am an Elf. I was traveling with companions near a river when I became disoriented. I found myself here suddenly, with no memory of how. These grounds are unfamiliar, and the trees…I fear they are as lost as I."

"Okay…So, are you human?"

"No."

"Good." Spike lay back for a moment, letting the night revive him. He closed his eyes, clearing his head. With effort he could erase the effects of the whiskey, at least temporarily, and after a good kill he could go out and get himself properly drunk. Or so was his plan.

"Do you hail from these lands?"

Spike kept his eyes closed as he answered. "No, I do not." He did a flip up to his feet, his landing was slightly wobbly but not so a human would notice, and serviceable for his purposes. Or it would have been, had the Elf not instantly knocked him to the ground again, in a movement so swift Spike hadn't seen it.

"Hey, what's up with that?" he demanded, slightly irritated.

A moment later the creature knelt at Spike's side, looking at him with an intensity that was unnerving, to say the least. It cut through the last haze of whiskey in him, leaving the vampire cold sober. Fortunately the bow and arrow were now holstered, though Spike would have preferred them to this.

It took an immense sense of pride and willpower for Spike not to break eye contact. With effort he said, "Whatcha lookin' at, bloody poofter?"

"You bear ill-will." It was a simple statement, one Spike would have taken pride in if not for the distinct sense that his life was possibly in danger here. And those damn eyes just kept _looking_ at him.

"I don't kill humans, haven't for a good two years. I'm one of the good guys now." He hadn't meant for the words to sound quite so desperate, but there they were.

"It is of vital importance I return to my companions at once. You know these lands?"

"Yeah."

"Very well." The Elf produced a long white knife with a filigreed blade and pressed it to Spike's throat. "You will be my guide."

"Bloody hell."

It was not Legolas' preference to take the dead one prisoner. It was a sign of his desperation that he'd chosen to interact with it at all. For close to an hour the Elf had wandered the nearby wood lost. The Song of the trees here felt jarring and discordant, and he found no sense of place within them.

How he came to be here remained a mystery. Again and again he had retraced the moments in his mind, knowing his only clue lay in his memory. Boromir had returned to the camp looking defeated. He'd admitted to forcing the Ring-bearer into hiding…into putting on the Ring. Legolas had responded immediately, racing with Gimli at his side into a forest that hinted of a pressing darkness but was itself pure.

He had used the moments the Dwarf would need to catch up to leap high into the trees, scanning for disturbances upon the ground that would reveal the Hobbit's location. Then within the trees a fugue had overtaken him. Legolas had felt himself falling and simultaneously rooted in place. The tree on which he stood seemed to pull away from him and yet remain constant. Then he was falling, onto a ground that was hard and more dirt than grass, and all Song broke apart only to reform in splinters around him. The sun disappeared, replaced with night as instantly as though he had traveled through time.

Legolas felt a menace in this place, completely different from the threat of the Ring. It was almost as though the place itself was the threat, and evil beat from within it instead of upon it. After fruitlessly searching the forest for some semblance of familiarity, he left the alien wood to find a graveyard. Stones with unfamiliar markings covered the ground in what could only be a litany of the dead.

He saw the creature's presence here as a product of a poisoned earth. Whatever land this was, it belonged to malevolent beings such as this one. Legolas knew it would be folly to continue on his own as he had, he needed the knowledge of one who lived here. And though this creature was already dead, it seemed threatened by both bow and blade, which made it easy to control.

Now it stood before him, glaring belligerently at the knife Legolas held visible at his side. "Where exactly do you expect me to take you?"

"My companions and I were camped near the River Anduin when we became separated."

"River?" it snorted. "Nearest river's 20 miles outside of town. This place is all desert."

The words didn't really surprise the Elf. He'd covered the surrounding area several times over and understood the climate. Still, he had hoped for at least some recognition to his mention of the Great River.

"I can take you to the liquor store," it continued. "Might help you relax a little."

Legolas' brow furrowed, not quite believing he understood. "Liquor store?"


	2. A Funny Thing Happened

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Joss Whedon, Tolkien Estate, others, do.

Chapter One

"A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Liquor Store"

Spike marched determinedly five feet ahead of his captor. It was not enough that his deal with the Suvolte demon eggs had been ruined, or that tin soldier boy had blown up the lower half of his crypt, or that Buffy had dumped him again, or even that he was out of whiskey.

No, he had to be kidnapped by a thing that was so afraid of cars it made them walk all over town to get to the bleeding liquor store so they wouldn't go on any main roads! All Spike wanted was a few hours of peaceful drunken stupor, and instead he had to play good boy to this…this…Elf!

At long last they reached their destination. Spike led the way to the door, careful to give the few cars in the lot a wide berth so as to keep his twitchy companion from shooting him, as it had almost done twice on their walk. Once when he tried to get away and once when he'd tried to demonstrate the harmlessness of a parked car and accidentally set off its alarm.

Spike had formulated a plan that involved heavy drinking in a park and a swift blow to a certain glowing cranium when he was greeted by an entirely unwelcome face leaving the liquor store.

"Spike!" Xander exclaimed, almost dropping his two bags. "What are you doing here?"

_If this wanker finds out I will stake myself,_ Spike vowed silently. Filling his voice with every ounce of the irritation he felt, he said, "Getting a bloody manicure, what's it look like I'm doing?"

"Oh, right. Who's your friend?" He indicated the Elf who had come to stand directly behind Spike, effectively squelching any hope the vampire had of pretending to be alone.

"One of Santa's helpers, only without the bite size quality."

Xander was looking at the thing with a strange expression that slowly transformed into recognition. "Hey! You're…you're…Legolas!"

Spike felt it stiffen behind him. With any luck it would shoot the Scooby, but Xander continued before it did.

"We have Gimli! He showed up at my apartment a couple hours ago, I was buying him rum."

"Gimli's here?" Legolas sounded relieved to Spike. So was Spike, come to think of it.

"You know its friend? Excellent! You can go, have a nice little reunion thing, and I'll be drinking my whiskey."

Xander continued as though Spike hadn't spoken. "He's waiting at my friend Buffy's house. We're getting the Scoobies together to try and figure out what happened and how to send you guys back to Middle-Earth."

"Take me to him," the pushy Elf commanded.

"You do that, Xander," Spike seconded, trying to step around him and get into the store.

"Sure thing. My car is right over there."

"Car?"

"Told you it was a form of transportation." Spike said smugly. "Completely safe. You could step right in front of one and not die. Really, you should try it."

Legolas hit Spike hard across the face, knocking the vampire into the wall of the store. "What the bleeding hell was that for!"

It spoke to Xander as though Spike wasn't there. "This being is malicious and violent. It has sought my harm since our first encounter – "

"You're the one who jumped me!"

" – and is among the walking dead." Legolas finished smoothly, ignoring Spike's rather valid point.

"Yep, that sounds like Spike," Xander agreed.

"Yet you know this creature by name and do not fear it?"

"Well…it's complicated," the human sighed. "He can't kill anymore so... Actually, I have no idea why we keep him around."

Having Xander Harris casually discuss offing him was just too much insult for Spike to take. He took the moment Legolas looked away from him to do a hammer fist to the neck followed by a rapid knee to the stomach and kick to the head. As the Elf fell back Spike used the momentum to shove it head first into the wall, at the same moment pushing off to sprint as fast as he possibly could in the opposite direction.

He dodged around the nearest corner, fully expecting an arrow to strike through his heart at any moment. It wasn't until he'd cleared a mile that he began to slow his pace. After two miles, he decided to turn around and go back for his whiskey.

* * *

Legolas was stunned momentarily from the blow to his head, but he managed to come back to his feet and ready his bow just in time to see Spike disappear around the corner of the store. He'd been about to give chase when the Man stopped him. 

"We need to get back to the house if we're gonna find a way to send you back. And as much as I like the idea of Spike-hunting, I don't really think it's a good idea for you to go running alone through the streets right now."

Legolas hesitated a moment, then reluctantly replaced his arrow and bow. "Very well. Take me to the house you speak of."

He was embarrassed by what had happened, and understood it was mostly his pride that sought vengeance now. He had let his guard down. His experiences with creatures of the dead were limited, though his thought had been that the fact of their death would decrease their fighting abilities. At least, that had been his impression of Spike.

How could a being that drew no sustenance from breath channel energy so effectively? He thought back to the way it had jumped to its feet after he had first knocked it down. Legolas should have seen the preternatural abilities then, but the action had been so slow and the landing so off balance…nothing to prepare him for the display of fighting prowess that had left him bleeding on the ground in a matter of seconds.

Legolas had been foolish. No way around it. He had allowed himself to grow complacent with false assumptions, thereby endangering himself and those around him. It was the sort of lazy mistake that could prove catastrophic for the Quest.

With a pang Legolas thought of the Ring-bearer. Either Frodo had been brought here by the same dark power that had taken himself and Gimli, or he was wandering the forest of Middle-Earth still. Either way he was probably alone, and in great peril. "We must go at once," he said, ready to set off in whatever direction the Man Spike had called Xander pointed to.

"We'll need to take my car." Xander said, indicating one of the beasts Spike had seemed so keen on during their walk.

"No!" Legolas responded sharply. He understood they were loud, heavy machines that spewed fumes which choked the air. They were a conglomeration of metal and poison, and Legolas would not bear to touch one. The eagerness Spike had shown to go near them only increased the Elf's wariness.

"Look, I know you're used to running eighty miles a day or whatever, but we need to go together, and I'm really not leaving my car in front of the liquor store all night," Xander sighed, then added, "Gimli was okay riding in it."

That gave the Elf pause. Gimli did not have the innate dislike of machinery shared by Elves, but he wouldn't use a tool he didn't trust either. If Gimli had ridden in it, he'd probably tested it beforehand as thoroughly as a Dwarf could, and Legolas would have to rely his friend's instincts in this foreign place.

It was also possible the Man was lying. Legolas was wary to trust any in this land, especially after being caught so miserably off-guard by Spike, but Xander had recognized Legolas by face and name, which could only come from the description of one who knew him. The fact that he was buying Gimli rum also spoke of his goodwill. The Elf gazed at him intently.

After a moment, Xander looked away and shuffled his feet against the paved ground. Legolas could detect no falsehood in the action, only nervousness. The fact was his options were limited. He saw no alternative at the moment to trusting this stranger and what he said. And if Gimli had seen fit to ride in a car, then Legolas would have to as well.

He considered briefly running alongside, but dismissed it with the thought of what Gimli would say if he knew the Elf feared something the Dwarf did not.

"Very well," Legolas said carefully. "I will ride in your car." He pronounced the strange word slowly, drawing out the letters. It did not feel comfortable.

* * *

Xander navigated the streets of Sunnydale with a character from a movie sitting in the seat next to him. As problems wrought by the Hell-mouth went, this one was definitely more fun. 

Unfortunately, he hadn't read the books and barely understood the movie. The gang had seen "Fellowship of the Ring" on principle when it came out last December, and to Xander it seemed like a lot of homoerotic spectacle about jewelry. He'd seen it a second time as a treat for Willow after her break up with Tara and understood little more, but thought the Hobbits were cute.

Willow, unsurprisingly, had memorized the books as a child and seemed to understand not only the plot but also the characters and all their intricacies. Willow was, in other words, a smart geek.

Xander was more of an average geek and would have been much more prepared for characters from Star Trek to start showing up randomly in his kitchen. As was, he'd had to make do with what information Willow could tell him. Or, more accurately, what information he could understand.

So far, it seemed the rivalry between Legolas and Gimli was real and a great manipulation tool. He wondered how much he could get them each to do by saying the other had already done it. Gimli had in fact ridden in the car, but only after poking at it for close to an hour with his axe. Though after the initial wariness, he had managed to calm down during the ride, certainly more than his tall counterpart.

Xander stole another sideways glance at Legolas. The Elf sat straight up, back rigidly not touching the seat, hands clasping something out of sight that was probably a weapon. His eyes stared straight ahead, and his mouth was set in a determined line.

Xander almost felt bad for the guy. Almost. He was acutely aware of the fact that he was sitting next to an Orlando Bloom clone with superpowers to rival Buffy's. It was difficult to pity someone he felt so insanely jealous of.

Not that he had much to worry about. Legolas wasn't exactly Anya's type, if her reaction to Gimli had been any indication. She'd practically swooned at the sight of the stout Dwarf, and seemed overly enthralled by his chunky braids and armor.

Xander was uncertain whether he should be jealous or offended. Of the beings in "Lord of the Rings", he would like to think his competition lay more with the Elves and less with the Dwarves. As was he was busy trying not to let this new perception of what Anya found attractive affect his self-image too much.

All the same, he couldn't help remembering she had dated demons for the 1,100 years before him, and a troll even before that. These uncomfortable thoughts stayed with him as he pulled into the driveway of 1630 Rivelo Drive. And they didn't really go away even as a crash from inside caused both him and Legolas to race into the house.


	3. Peanut Butter, Papaya Juice, and Angst

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N:** I had fun writing this chapter. Maybe too much.

Chapter Two

"Peanut Butter, Papaya Juice and Angst"

Buffy was in a good mood. Better than she'd been in a long time. After ending things with Spike (for good, she knew in a real, concrete way she wouldn't be going back this time) she'd bumped into possibly the most gorgeous man in the universe as she was walking home.

A gorgeous man badly in need of a bath, but gorgeous nonetheless.

He'd stood out of place in the middle of the sidewalk, his eyes jumping nervously everywhere and knuckles white on the hilt of his sword. His clothes looked like something out of a romance novel. Tattered by travel and several hundred years out of date, never mind that they reeked. His hair was stringy with filth, and he bore the shaggy beard of one who just hadn't taken the time to shave. For all that, he was still the best looking man Buffy had seen in a long time, and that was saying a _lot_.

He also looked familiar. It wasn't until he introduced himself as Strider and demanded rather abruptly to know what had become of his friends that Buffy was able to place him.

Knowing that mystical forces were involved made it her job to take the attractive man home and give him a bath. Sometimes even Buffy had to admit being the Slayer had its perks.

Now she sat at the dining table, with a book Anya had provided on inter-dimensional travel in front of her. She had intended to read and be helpful, but was distracted by the sight of Aragorn as he struggled a comb through his still damp hair while looking into one of her hand mirrors. She could hear Anya in the living room engaged in an animated discussion with Gimli about mithril and its monetary values. From the kitchen came the sound of banging pots and pans as Sam – Willow's discovery – cooked per his insistence. Willow's voice carried through as she tried to help. The kitchen was not Hobbit-sized, and while Sam's enthusiasm was noteworthy, his ability was somewhat hampered and there was a safety concern.

Sam was also to thank for Aragorn's current bathed state. The Man had not considered washing the priority Buffy did, and it had taken the Hobbit's insistence that not doing so would be a grave insult to their hosts to get the would-be king out of his clothes.

The clothes, regrettably, remained in their original state, as Buffy had no clue how to begin washing them. She hoped Sam would get around to it later, but he currently seemed more concerned with second supper or whatever it was he was making. That, and asking about Frodo.

It was only Willow's constant reassurances that she knew without doubt Frodo was currently okay that kept Sam from bolting out the door in a wild search for the perpetually-in-peril-Hobbit. Willow had somehow managed to convince the Fellowship members present that she was a benevolent Seer who understood details of their journey's toil and could help them on their path.

Buffy still wasn't certain how she'd pulled that off, but was too distracted by the sight of Aragorn combing his hair to give it much thought. He was having difficulty, yanking it out as he struggled with the tangles. Obviously this was a person who had not yet mastered the concept of conditioner, although he'd made good use of her avocado body wash and shampoo, by the smell of him.

She didn't mind. The aroma mixed with his own spicy scent (born of years amongst Elves and forests) and caused for a very pleasant olfactory sensation as she watched him. Of course he'd insisted on wearing his own clothes after his bath, but even their smell of fish only underscored the more dominant and pleasant scents of his person.

She couldn't help but feel like this was her reward for dumping Spike. A nice pleasant distraction which required her to help extremely attractive and/or helpful (in the case of Sam) men return to their own fantastical world.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more this felt like a turning point for her and her friends. Xander and Anya were getting married in a week, Willow was basically recovered from the magicks and beginning to reconcile with Tara, and Dawn was doing better. Since Buffy's birthday she'd been making a conscious effort to give her sister the attention she needed, and the teen-age girl wasn't stealing anymore.

All big pluses. And with no Big Bads on the horizon to destroy the world – just a few nerds in need of jail – Buffy saw no reason why the next few months shouldn't only get better. Especially if peppered with fun anecdotes such as helping the characters from "Lord of the Rings" return to Middle-Earth.

She was seized with a sudden and unexpected urge to laugh, which she gave in to. Aragorn paused, looking at her with an expression that was not good humor. "What of this moment would amuse you so?" He demanded, throwing the comb down in frustration.

"Nothing – it's, I'm sorry," she said, fighting to get herself under control. She realized if she were in Aragorn's place – her friends scattered in another dimension, the world on the brink of destruction, and everything dependent on someone who was lost and incapable of defending himself – she'd probably be about ready to kill a person who started laughing at her. Especially if she was having trouble with her hair.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again, meaning it. "I just had a funny thought, completely not about you or your friends, about, um, peanut butter." She said the first noun that popped into her head, and instantly regretted it but felt it was too late to stop now. "It's, you know, so spread-able, and, um, full of peanut goodness." She elaborated, hoping very badly he would stop looking so angry. "Do you have peanut butter? Where you're from? You know, in Middle-Earth?" Her voice tilted up a little too high at the end of each question but she couldn't help it.

Aragorn just continued to look at her with an expression she found difficult to read, but guessed wasn't happy. Just then Willow appeared in the doorway, with Sam by her hip mixing something in a bowl.

"Was something funny?" Willow asked. "I thought I heard Buffy laughing." She sounded hopeful. Buffy realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed – really laughed – and Willow was probably thinking the same thing.

"It's nothing," she said. "Just, you know, peanut butter." She almost gave in to another fit of giggles on the last word but managed to hold it in.

Sam nodded sagely, as though understanding something profound. Then, rather abruptly he announced, "I need salt!" and turned smartly back in to the kitchen.

The absolute adorableness of the Hobbit was too much for Buffy and she found herself laughing again. Willow stood hesitating for a moment, looking from the Slayer to the increasingly peeved Aragorn and back.

Just then there was a loud crash from the kitchen as Sam dropped something. Willow hurriedly turned to see if he was all right, followed closely by Buffy and the Now-Ready-To-Destroy-Something-Expensive Aragorn.

Sam sat unhappily on the floor, covered in yellow goo that had apparently been in the bowl a few moments before. The bowl, for its part, sat innocently on the floor a few feet away. Buffy was uncertain what had made the noise until she saw several heavy pans also covering the floor.

Anya and Gimli appeared in the doorway a moment later. "What happened?" The Dwarf demanded, brandishing his axe threateningly.

"B-Begging your pardon," the little Hobbit stammered, face red with embarrassment. "I was stepping up onto the stool you've so thoughtfully provided me for reaching the high countertops when I'm afraid I foolishly – "

He was interrupted by Legolas rushing in, bow at the ready. "What harm has transpired in this place?" he asked, surveying the scene suspiciously.

Buffy looked from him to Aragorn. After taking a moment she said, "Oh, I have got to see this movie again."

* * *

Merry and Pippin sat on the Big Folk couch in the Big Folk room where the Big Folk people stood and talked about things that just didn't make any sense. Two of them – the blond with tall hair and the big dark-haired one – seemed mad at the third, who was shorter and therefore both more likable and more trustworthy.

Also, he was the only one who hadn't done a rather rude search to their persons earlier demanding to know the locations of Frodo and/or the Ring. This behavior was enough to tell Merry – who told Pippin – that they were in the presence of enemies. Pippin wasn't fully convinced, as the people had then apologized profusely and brought them papaya juice. Papaya juice, it turned out, was one of the best tasting beverages in the world and perhaps the only thing the Shire lacked.

The humans had also explained they were good magicians trying to help Frodo and the Quest by taking the Ring out of Middle-Earth permanently. This was a point Pippin felt bore merit as they were definitely not in Middle-Earth now, but Merry thought it more likely a ploy to trick the two Hobbits into helping them destroy the world, although he did like the papaya juice.

"Is it at least in Sunnydale?" the big one who seemed to be in charge was demanding. Merry had named him Muckamuck.

"I…I don't know," the short one Pippin called Dewberry said. "I told you it was a difficult spell. I had to translate the collective imaginations of the world into energy matter. Pinpointing specific time and place and transferring that energy to match our location…we were lucky to get Hobbits."

"We didn't want Hobbits!" Muckamuck shouted. Then, more quietly, though very distinguishable to Hobbit ears, "we only wanted the Ring. You said this would work."

"I said I would try," Dewberry countered. "To do it I had to work off the surrounding energy during a specific time and place. We could have ended up with the whole Fellowship here."

"Dude, that would have been so cool," the third person who the Hobbits together had named Crumblum chimed in. The other two stopped, looking at him. "Think about it, we could meet the real actual Legolas, in the flesh. A-and Aragorn, and Boromir…" Crumblum trailed off, looking dreamy-eyed.

"Frodo," Muckamuck added, with a similar expression. Then with a shake he came out of it. "But that's not what we're doing. We aren't playing meet-my-favorite-character here. We have a mission to accomplish."

"Mission. Right." Dewberry sounded unhappy.

"We have to get the Ring. Do the spell again," Muckamuck commanded.

"That's the thing…I can't," the relatively short Man said.

"What do you mean, you can't?" Muckamuck was starting to seem a little scary.

"In order to do it, I'd have to start over, and the energy balance is different. We took characters out of the book. In order to try again, we'd have to put them back, and, I don't know how."

"Don't know how?" Crumblum repeated. "So are they, like, stuck here now?" He looked at the Hobbits with a kind of fascination that was disturbing. It was a little like when Legolas looked at you, only without the intelligence.

"Wait, are you saying the story is different now?" Muckamuck asked.

There was a pause, then the three Men raced as one to a bookshelf and starting pulling books out in a panic. They each grabbed a different one and started scanning the pages.

"It's okay!" Dewberry announced. "The part we took them from is still the same."

"What about the ending?" Crumblum said, looking worried.

"I have it," Muckamuck spoke. " 'Well, I'm back'. It's all still there." The three together sighed in relief.

Pippin and Merry exchanged a look. Neither was certain exactly what was going on but it seemed as though they might be stuck here for a while. And they were out of papaya juice.

* * *

Legolas stood rigid, back an inch from the wall. He had positioned himself at a corner where he could clearly see everyone in the room and keep his eye on both the entranceway and window. He had been caught off guard this night too many times in too many ways, and his embarrassment was equaled only by his resolve not to let it happen again.

The good news, if you could call it that, was he was no longer here alone. Gimli, Aragorn and Sam had all been brought by the same powerful dark force. Which allowed for the possibility that more Fellowship members had been as well. Which meant if Frodo was still on the River Anduin, he could be very much alone, in lands overrun by orcs.

It was entirely too plausible in Legolas' mind that the Fellowship members had been removed from Frodo's protection by powers in league with Sauron. It was an unspoken fear shared by Aragorn.

The Man barely spoke as the meeting about how to return to the Great River progressed. His iron eyes were shadowed, and his shoulders bore a weight of guilt. Legolas understood. Since the passing of Gandalf into shadow Aragorn had borne the responsibility of leadership, and ensuring the safety of the Ring-bearer. Now something beyond ken had broken the Fellowship, and Aragorn took this as his failure.

Legolas would have to speak to him when there was a chance. He didn't know what he would say, but his friend couldn't afford to lose faith in himself. Nor could Middle-Earth.

"So basically you're saying we just have to track down the source of the original spell to break it?" The small blonde woman, Buffy, was saying. Her voice focused his attention. If this land was a poison, she was the antidote. There was a power imbued in her that caused darkness to tremble, as though light had centered within her heart. Like so much of this place, it was unlike anything he had encountered, though he knew instinctively to trust it.

Whatever this woman said or did, it came from a place of truth he would not question. It was luck or possibly Valar that brought them to her, and she presented the only real hope they had of returning to their land. Anything else – finding Frodo, destroying the Ring, saving Middle-Earth – was beyond hope.

"If its like other trans-dimensional portal spells yes," the woman Anya said now in answer to Buffy's question. "But those usually work with the idea that the thing being transported is, well, real."

"Real?" Aragorn spoke now. His voice seemed loud in its unexpectedness. He had almost disappeared in the shadow of the doorway, and looked very much like the Ranger Strider he had lived these past years. Aside from being uncommonly clean.

"She just means, um…" Buffy started, then remained quiet.

"She means real to this dimension," the red-haired Willow said. She was less trustworthy. She too harbored a great power and strength, but it was something wild in her she battled. Something tapped into darkness.

"Di-men-sion," Aragorn broke the word down. Legolas suspected it was because of its strangeness.

Most of the words these people spoke bore a strange dialect but were clearly of the Westron tongue. Some things – names, certain nouns such as "car" or "dimension" – sounded foreign. Not just in the sense of being unfamiliar, but almost as though of a different language.

But Aragorn didn't stop at the word. Rather he stepped forward, and Legolas saw a fury burn in his friend's eyes such as he hadn't known. "If we were real to this dimension, there would be no need of us to leave, if I am to understand anything of this hour's passing. But there is more. Words you dare not speak before us. You claim to understand our Quest, yet do not share in our peril. We come before you desperate and you offer help as though it amuses you. You speak of spells and dimensions as though we are children, incapable of understanding.

"Well," his voice became quiet. "I am not a child, and I have known magic. My companions and I live on the frontlines of an un-winnable war, forced to watch the steady destruction of our land and our people. Yet you speak to us winking at each other, as though we are not real. So speak now and speak true, what must be that would make you believe we are?"

There was a long silence. Legolas expected Buffy to answer as the leader. Instead Anya spoke up, sounding unfazed by Aragorn's wrath.

"You're characters in a trilogy of books that came out about fifty years ago. They're being made into movies. The first one came out a few months ago. You all look like the people in the movie. Really, quite pretty," she added with a look at Gimli who blushed scarlet, Legolas was certain.

After a moment, Aragorn said dumbly, "What?"

That was when there was a crash at the front door. Boromir stumbled in, held up by Spike. Without hesitation Legolas drew his bow and fired a single arrow straight to the vampire's heart.


	4. Spike's Dissent

**Disclaimer: **See prologue.

**A/N:** Inspiration for this chapter comes from the season premiere of "Lost".

Chapter Three

"Spike's Dissent"

Spike almost made it to the liquor store. He almost reached the parking lot. He could almost see the front door. But, as he'd once told a young man who'd almost staked him in the heart, almost is never enough. He'd then ripped the throat out of the young man and showed it to him.

Something he would absolutely love to do to the man who jumped out at him from behind a parked car now, thus further delaying his meeting with whiskey. Spike sent the man flying backward into said car. However he was human, which meant the bloody chip activated and Spike did not rip out his throat. Instead, the vampire's head exploded in a brief bolt of agonizing pain. It sucked.

Like the Elf from before, the man wore a Robin Hood-wannabe costume complete with cape. Unlike Legolas, he brandished a rather large sword. It might have been comical if the newcomer didn't seem so handy with it.

"What's your name then?" Spike asked, once his headache had receded a bit.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor," the stranger said quietly, as though greatly ashamed of his father but feeling a need to tell Spike who he was anyway. "I saw you walking in league with Legolas. Take me to him."

"Oh brilliant. What is it with you foreigners? Keep jumping out of nowhere, expecting me to take you places. I am not your bloody guide dog. I am a man who has had a bleeding awful day and wants a little peace and quiet."

Boromir raised his sword. "You will take me to Legolas or this will be your last breath."

Spike growled and felt his face change as though of its own will. "I took my last breath a long time ago." He took a menacing step forward.

The Man gasped, falling back against the car. "Madness! You are a monster!"

"That's right," Spike said, continuing to come forward. "I am a monster. And if you don't get out of my way this will be your last breath."

Spike expected him to run away then, as people usually did when he used this technique to mug them. Instead he made a rather impressive lunge toward Spike's mid-section.

Annoyed the vampire parried the weapon, causing the man to spin off-balance. It would have been a great opening for Spike to grab him from behind and bite his neck, but the chip was twitchy enough as was. Sparring with a human – even just to parry blows – was dangerous territory and he would have to be careful. Boromir regained his footing and came at him with the sword once more.

Spike stepped smoothly out of the way. Boromir lost balance, found it again. Came at him. This cycle went on for a good five minutes. It was mildly interesting, but Spike was getting bored, he wasn't even in game-face anymore. The man for his part was growing agitated. His blows became wilder and his breathing shallow and high. It was kind of pathetic.

Finally Spike parried at the wrist, causing the sword to fly from Boromir's hand and the chip to send a warning shot of pain down the center of his skull.

Boromir looked from his fallen weapon to Spike with such fear that for a moment the vampire felt like his old self again. There was no chip, no love for a Slayer, just a predator and his prey alone in an alley.

Spike strolled casually over, picked up the sword and looked at it with mild interest. "This is quite the knife you got here. A little big for my taste, almost as though it were over-compensating for something." He shot a sly look at Boromir. The scent of his shame was overwhelming. Fear would have been preferable, but this was still enough for Spike to know he had won.

"Hefty too. You should be careful, a man could break his back lugging this around." He took a few practice swings in the air. Light, easy, controlled. "I seem to do okay though." He smiled, faced his victim. And that was when the chip hit.

Like everything else military, there were rules you had to follow when it came to The Chip. Spike had become an expert on them during the first year. You could frighten people, threaten them, taunt them, throw blows at them intended to miss. Just don't let any blows actually hit, and never ever face a human while holding a lethal weapon and intending to kill them.

The pain jarred through his skull, reverberating. Spike fell involuntarily to his knees, letting go the sword. He squeezed his eyes tight, willing the pain to pass. _I'm not hurting him I'm not I'm not_, he repeated the familiar and hated mantra to himself until the agony ebbed to a dull ache. Perhaps ten seconds had passed when he was able to open his eyes again. By that time Boromir was gone, and so was his sword.

Spike began to get to his feet. Whiskey. Finally.

Then the sword rammed through his chest from behind, and Boromir's voice hissed in his ear, "I do okay with it too."

Spike couldn't help laughing a little as he fell forward. This night just wouldn't end.

* * *

Boromir pulled the greatsword from the body of his enemy with bitter triumph. He was lost completely now. Monster or no, this being had been his best hope of reuniting with Legolas and possibly the rest of the Fellowship. Now he could only follow in the direction he had seen the Elf go. A premise that would have seemed impossible even if the Prince hadn't boarded a metal beast traveling at a speed no mortal could match.

Boromir was wondering about tracking anything on the strange stone ground when his slain foe rolled over, coughed, and said irritably, "You're still here."

Stunned the Man took an involuntary step back. The sword had punctured through the heart. There was no doubt in his mind that he had dealt a lethal blow. And yet…

The monster stood and looked unhappily at his torn and bloody top. "You ruined my shirt. I only have three, you know. Do you realize how hard it is for a vampire to go shopping? The mall closes at six and it's barely dusk then. And if you think I'm settling for some cheap knock-off at a discount store… . Oh, and did I thank you for stabbing me in the back? Classy that."

"You're…you're…" Boromir was barely aware of the words he tried to speak. He feared comprehension as the reality around him found clarity. He had attempted to take the Ring. Almost immediately after he had been transported from Middle-Earth into a land filled with machinery, noise and the undead. Seeing Legolas here had been an illusion wrought by his own denial. He had been taken by death or other means into an underworld to suffer eternity for his crime. It was the only thing that made sense as the monster continued its indecipherable ramble.

"A vampire, right. Which means swords through the heart don't actually kill me, just hurt like bloody hell. A few centimeters to the left and you could've severed my spinal cord. It's down right inconsiderate, if you think about it."

Boromir sank heavily to the rough stone that replaced grass in this netherworld. He never should have joined this Quest. Elrond should have stopped him. Lady Galadriel should not have permitted him to continue. They had to know he would betray Frodo in the end. Galadriel had seen it when…even now the memory of her gaze hurt him. His inability to meet it.

"So you gonna sit there all night or what?"

"I failed." The words came softly, weighted by truth. He didn't mean to say them but once spoken they wrapped round him like a chain, holding him to the unyielding rock of ground.

"Suit yourself," the man who was not a man shrugged and moved toward the building nearby. Suddenly he stopped and whirled abruptly to face the indented path upon which the metal beasts roamed.

He sniffed the air and looked down the road. One of the beasts – dark, longer and bigger than others – sped by. He made to run after it then stopped. After a moment he said heavily, "I'm gonna need you to come with me."

* * *

There were certain smells Spike would never forget throughout his eternity. The scent of a slayer succumbing to death, the tang of Drusilla's insanity, Buffy in all moments, and the smell of Dawn's fear.

Dawn. Afraid. It was a stench soaked with the memory of his failure and Buffy's death. He had sworn a thousand times over never to let the niblet feel that scared again. He would die ensuring her safety. And now she had been inside the van that drove by. Inside, and terrified.

He had to move. Save her. If he could just save her this time, maybe…

It was strange how certain thought patterns became habit. Buffy was back. She'd died and come back. He'd failed to save Dawn and Buffy died and he spent a summer replaying the moment, and thinking of everything he would do if he could just go back in time and save Dawn. And now Buffy was alive again, and Dawn was in danger, and it was his moment back.

Only her captors were human. He recognized the van and smell of the nerdzoids. Which meant he couldn't rush in and save her by himself even in this moment of second chance.

Boromir sat in a lump on the ground, seemingly defeated. "I'm gonna need you to come with me," Spike said, detesting the words.

He didn't respond, just sat staring at nothing. "Look, I know you're upset you didn't kill me and all but you have to get over it. There's a girl out there in danger and we have to move now to save her."

Slowly Boromir lifted his head and looked at him with utter confusion. "What?"

* * *

Boromir's premise that he was in a netherworld to suffer eternity was being challenged. First there was the rescue mission. It seemed to him that in a land of the dead there wouldn't be a concern about keeping members alive.

Second was the running. Specifically the struggle to keep up with the swift blond figure ahead of him. It was a situation remarkably similar to following Legolas through the forests, and the stitch developing in his side spoke of being alive.

The ground was level but the rough rock beneath jarred his legs to run on. And it didn't help that Spike felt a need to do high jumps over large objects Boromir was forced to run around, thus increasing the distance between them.

Clearly this was a creature of no small ability, but he seemed at least fazed by the impact of the sword through his body and would occasionally stop to clutch at the wound before going on. This plus his seeming continual need to sniff at the air for direction kept him from disappearing from Boromir's view permanently.

At long last Spike stopped before one of the buildings. When Boromir caught up to him he said without looking round, "She's in the basement. Tara's with her and," he paused, sniffing at the air. "I'm not sure. A few of your friends maybe? I don't think they'll be a problem, but if they are I might be able to take care of them. What you need to worry about are three men in there. When we come in you have to move quick. Get your sword ready. Swing fast and hard and don't stop until those three are dead."

Boromir had a bad feeling about this. "You desire me to kill?"

"Catching up are we?"

"Men of whom I know nothing save a monster such as yourself wishes their death?"

Spike growled. "Look, if you don't kill them I guarantee at least one of the men in there will have no problem killing you, and the girl, and possibly your friends."

Boromir considered this. "Is there a way by which I might see this for myself?"

"Yes! Go in!" Spike nearly shouted.

Boromir was thinking. He was thinking about the Ring, and Frodo, and his moment of failure. He was thinking about how he had lived his life by his sword, never clearly even at his moments of greatest rationale.

So he spoke now. Calmly. With great thought. "I will enter, and if there is a girl in danger as you say we will save her, but I will spill no blood out of haste. I do not kill men blindly as you would have me do – " _Frodo, helpless, running from him _" – I do not."

"Brilliant. Okay, come on then. There's an entrance on the side that leads directly to the basement."

Boromir followed. He stood to the side, sword at the ready, as Spike kicked the door in. He then jumped into the room, raised his weapon, and stopped.

Frodo looked up at him from the couch, eyes round with fear.

* * *

Dawn was scared, confused, and kidnapped again. It wasn't fair. She'd been spending the night at Tara's for pizza, videos, and covert get-her-back-together-with-Willow operations. It had been a great, fun night she'd looked forward to.

Then Frodo showed up. Fresh from "Lord of the Rings" and looking just as agitated as he did in the movie. After a brief, disorienting moment during which the three of them did little more than look at each other, the Hobbit put on the infamous Ring and disappeared. A moment later the door to Tara's dorm opened and closed, which had sparked several hours of Hobbit-hunting.

Aside from an incident in the laundry room involving lint, it was slow and frustrating enough to make both of them doubt if Frodo had actually been there in the first place. They'd only seen him for a few seconds to begin with, and that fact was so impossible it was easy to believe it hadn't happened.

Tara had thought to call Buffy but Dawn talked her out of it with the points that a) this could all be a product of their shared delusion, which was why b) it would be better to wait until they actually found him to call. Privately Dawn also felt she would like to have just one adventure that didn't involve Buffy so that she could come out looking like the hero. She had hopes to find Frodo, destroy the Ring (thereby winning Frodo's eternal love) and return him safely to Middle-Earth all without Buffy's knowing.

This of course depended on finding a small Hobbit who in addition to being naturally quiet and good at hiding was also invisible. Finally in defeat the two had returned to Tara's dorm. There they found him sitting on the couch, the Ring clutched in a tight fist and tears running down his face. He'd never left the room.

An hour of comfort and discussion later, Dawn had finally been ready to call Buffy. That was when Warren and Andrew burst in, Warren sporting a gun. Before Dawn knew what was happening Tara was unconscious and the three of them were being taken to whatever parents' basement was being used as the nerds' secret lair.

What bothered Dawn most wasn't that she'd been kidnapped – this was a common enough occurrence she almost expected it to happen when she went somewhere without Buffy – it was that it was the _nerds_ who kidnapped her. Worse, she was actually afraid of them. Well, Warren.

He'd knocked Tara out before the witch could respond with any kind of spell (she'd been unconscious for almost half an hour – Dawn was more than worried), and he seemed almost eager for an excuse to use the gun. Sitting prisoner, Dawn was acutely aware that he'd recently killed someone, and now he had the Ring.

The jewelry piece seemed to build on his blood lust, making him scarier than before. She couldn't quite describe the change in words. It was like he went from a murdering geek to a murdering geek with a nuclear bomb. You couldn't see the bomb, you just looked at him and knew he had it.

Dawn also knew that Andrew and Jonathan were prisoners as much as she, Tara and the Hobbits. Jonathan seemed like he might understand this, or at least he was afraid of Warren. Andrew on the other hand acted like he was still a partner in the whole scheme, just waiting for when Warren would share the Ring with him. The stupidity was dumb-founding.

Meanwhile Dawn sat useless on the couch amid the most helpless characters of the Fellowship and a still unconscious Tara. She was trying to give Frodo encouraging looks since he seemed ready for a Buffy-style coma in the wake of his failure to protect/destroy the Ring. Merry remained pensive on her other side and Pippin sat next to him, also unhappy but less depressed about it.

Without Tara Dawn was their most likely hope of getting them out of it. She was the sister of the Slayer, not to mention a powerful world-destroying entity in her own right. Or she was if kidnapped by an insane hell-god and bleeding. Not a great or particularly helpful superpower to have if you thought about it.

Really her talent was to sit around and wait for Buffy to rescue her. So she sat, waited, and soon enough the door was knocked down. Only it wasn't her sister who came rushing in, it was Boromir, followed closely by Spike. The two beings of both her universe and "Lord of the Rings" most likely to die tragically.

Dawn felt ready to cry.

* * *

Spike almost crashed into Boromir who had decided to become inexplicably motionless at the crucial moment of surprise. Irritated he looked around and saw Dawn on a couch. Tara was sleeping over one arm and several small furry not-humans sat with them.

The geeks in need of killing were at a nearby table, presumably plotting the end of Star Trek or whatever counted as evil in their minds. Warren stood at Spike and Boromir's entrance looking …different. Spike wasn't certain how. All he knew was his vampire senses were shouting warning bells equivalent to the presence of a slayer (one he hadn't been snogging for the last six months, at least).

The strangely scary Warren approached. Boromir continued not to notice, fascinated by the tribbles on the couch. Warren cocked a gun. Boromir finally looked round at him.

"Put down your sword."

An order given with no following giggle or reference to Dr. No. Spike was starting to feel more than worried.

Boromir looked levelly from the gun to Warren. "What villainy wouldst that cause?"

_Stupid git doesn't know about guns,_ Spike thought angrily just as Warren pulled the trigger. Boromir fell to the ground, clutching at his bleeding leg and sword put down. Somewhere in the background an impressed Andrew breathed, "Whoa."

"Now. Both of you will do exactly what I say to do when I say to do it," the should-be-dead-by-now villain continued.

"Guns don't have much of an effect on me, case you forgotten," Spike said carefully.

"No," Warren agreed. "But I'm willing to bet they do on her." He pointed the gun at Dawn who let out a gasp of fear.

_Aw hell with it_, Spike thought and did a leap through the air, kicking the gun away from Dawn's direction and out of Warren's hand as he landed. The headache induced was mild, meaning he'd done almost no damage save parry the weapon. This was of course both good and bad.

Warren who should have been terrified and mewling just by that move instead stepped gracefully back and said without trace of fear, "Andrew, pick up the gun."

The terrified and mewling second moved to do just that when Spike grabbed it first. He turned to shoot before the chip could strike but couldn't move fast enough. The headache induced was blinding and the shot went wild into a wall. Then Warren was on top of him, gun pressed to his temple.

"What effect would a gun shot close range to the head have on a vampire I wonder? Wouldn't kill you. Scramble your brains maybe? Make you a vegetable? In constant agony from your wound? Face blown off. Unable to feed. Just withering into nothingness."

"Lovely imagery. Really, you should be a poet."

He parried the gun to the left as he rolled to the right and stood. Warren came up a moment later still holding the gun and fired. Spike had already thrown himself on the ground past Warren's feet. With his legs he braced the near one of the human's and kicked savagely, breaking it and causing him to fall forward. The chip of course wasn't happy but Spike forced himself to see through the pain, dragging himself to where the gun had flown from Warren's hand. He picked it up, which in this weakened state sent a fresh shot of pain to bounce off the first. Someone was screaming, he hoped it was Warren but knew it could just as easily be himself.

Somehow he got to Boromir's side near the door. "Come on!" he yelled at Dawn.

"No one's going anywhere." Andrew. Stupid not-worth-the-time-to-bite _Andrew_. He stood in front of the collected hostages as though he had some sort of power over them.

Dawn stood up behind him and karate chopped to his neck. "Ow!" the nerd said, wincing and turning to look at her.

"That usually works in the movies," she said embarrassed, then punched him hard in the face. Andrew stumbled from the blow, but it wasn't enough to knock him out or even down. Fortunately two of the little not-people tackled his legs and pulled him down, one biting his arm savagely. Spike decided he liked that one.

"Okay! Let's go!" he shouted. The pain had receded just to the point of manageable, and he hoped it would be gone in the next half hour or so. He'd never broken anyone's bones since the chip and could only guess at the full severity of the aftermath.

"Tara!" Dawn said, trying to lift the unconscious figure.

"We cannot leave the Ring!" put in the not-human who so far hadn't done anything besides sit.

"Oh we bloody well can!" Spike shouted, not knowing what he was talking about or caring if anyone besides the little bit actually followed.

"Spike! You have to help Boromir!" Dawn cried.

"Of course I do." That was the trouble with humans. You couldn't just care about the one you actually liked, you had to care about them all or the one you liked would suddenly stop talking to you. Not so with vampires. Drusilla would have been proud of him if he staked a fallen vampire during a raid.

Cradling the gun in one hand he hoisted Boromir up so the Man's arm draped over his shoulder. Looking round he saw Dawn attempting to do the same with Tara. The two helpful not-humans were still tackling Andrew and having a fun time of it. The useless one had decided to stand up to better project his pained martyr expression to the room.

Warren had pulled himself to the table and was trying to stand without putting weight on his injured leg, and Jonathan was hiding under said table.

"Help Dawn with Tara!" Spike directed the order to anyone who felt like following it. One of the two on Andrew left him to assist in this new task while the other remained heavy on his back. Spike felt new appreciation for their usefulness.

When it looked like Dawn had Tara secured Spike again called for them to move out.

"We cannot leave without the Ring," repeated the martyr.

"If you want to stay go right ahead."

"We must defend Frodo," Boromir said.

_He's delusional. Brilliant._ Spike thought feeling frustrated and at an impasse. Here he was trying to save Dawn and suddenly he found himself rescuing five additional people, one of whom was supposed to have been his back up. Worse, it seemed none of the hostages were in any hurry to leave.

Granted Warren was less of a threat without his gun, but he still looked menacing even by Spike's standards. He now leaned on the table, watching them. Spike couldn't shake the feeling that they escaped now by his will. If Warren wanted them to stay, he doubted they would have a choice.

"Come on," he repeated, unnerved.

Without warning the previously immobile not-human brandished a sword and charged Warren. Warren batted him away, sending the little thing flying across the room. Spike couldn't help being pleased, though everyone else in the room – including Andrew and Jonathan – had the opposite reaction.

The useful not-humans immediately charged together in a manner similar to the one before. They too were batted away. Boromir tried to do the same despite his leg and Spike found himself holding him back. At the same time Dawn exclaimed, "You hurt Frodo!" as though this were a big deal.

"Leave. Now." Warren said in a voice so quiet it filled the room.

Spike almost took an involuntary step back. Almost.

"Come on. We're going," he said, knowing he would not have to repeat the words this time.

* * *

Out on the sidewalk Spike led the way to Buffy's house, continuing to support Boromir best he could. Never mind he was still recovering from a record-breaking headache or that he'd been rammed through with a sword not so long ago, he had to carry the big lug of a Man.

Tara had come to once they got outside with help of water from Merry's canteen, and she was walking fine by herself now. It seemed she could at least help support Boromir who wasn't a little heavy with all the layers of chain mail.

Dawn had given Spike a briefing on what was happening. It seemed the first official nerd-book from a few years ago was back with a vengeance, and the Trio was taking advantage of it in great nerd tradition. They should win medals at the next sci-fi convention or something.

"Thank you," the words came unexpected from someone near his elbow.

Surprised Spike looked down to see the famed Frodo walking steadily beside him, eyes straight ahead. "What for?"

"Rescuing us. Although I fear it was for naught. Our destruction is imminent."

"Anyone ever tell you you'd make a great inspirational speaker? Very peppy."

The Hobbit looked up at him, eyes clouded with grief. "You should not have left the Ring."

"Yeah. Death would've been a lot better."

The Hobbit's hand went to his neck as though searching for something, then dropped limply away. "It may be."

"Frodo," Boromir spoke up through labored breath. "I…"

"It's okay," the snack-able cut him off. "I know."

"I would go to the pits of Mordor with you. To the very end."

"I know." With that Frodo went to join his friends, leaving Spike with the depressed warrior.

"Oh get over it," he snapped, fed up.

"Pardon?"

"You wanted to save your country, thought the Ring would help. After months of going along with what everyone else said you scared a Hobbit. People have done a lot worse for a lot less believe me. Difference is they don't go around moping about it forever after. Well, most don't," he amended, thinking of Angel.

"I was weak. I could not see the Ring for what it was."

"A tool with which to defeat Sauron's army?"

"It would destroy me. Make me as vicious as the enemy I sought to ruin."

"Yeah yeah, power corrupts, all that. Well speaking from the side of Evil, better not to have you. You're the type who'd be rationalizing everything. 'I had to nuke the village to save the crops' that sort of thing. Bloody weak is what it is. Better to have a Ring like that in the hands of some real villains. Folks who nuke villages for the fun of it and don't need a better reason.

"Warren killed his ex a few weeks ago and framed our resident hero for it. Also, he just did a hell of a lot more than scare a Hobbit to get the Ring now. He's the one you should be beating up, not yourself."

Boromir remained quiet for a long moment. "It was folly for me to join in this Quest."

"Well, maybe. But you did. So what you gonna do about it now?"

They were at Buffy's house. Boromir managed to open the door and Spike helped him inside. The first thing he saw was Legolas.

_Still has his bow out I see,_ the vampire thought, annoyed. Then, _Where's the arrow?_


	5. Jonathan Explains It All

**Disclaimer: **See prologue.

**A/N:** Sorry this chapter took so long. I've been all kinds of busy. Xander doesn't have an apartment number on the show, so I'm assuming it was an oversight and invented one for him. Also, one of my shortcomings is I do not know what dead flesh looks like once it has been stabbed a few times. I could have done research, but the morgue people kept threatening to call the police. If you find my description lacking, please replace it with your own in your mind.

A Little Escapism

Chapter Four

"Jonathan Explains It All"

Spike was hurt, tired and bitter. He was also a very wound up vampire who'd been attacked multiple times by a variety of beings in a short period of time. Hence his preternatural senses were humming and working at a rate much faster than his encumbered mind.

As he came in the door with Boromir his eyes fixed immediately on Legolas – a known threat. While his brain processed that the Elf had his bow drawn his body reacted to a weapon.

So it was that while Spike was thinking about it his body was dropping flat to the floor on its own accord. Therefore the arrow Legolas unerringly shot did not pierce Spike's heart. Rather, it pierced exactly 2.5 centimeters above it and lay nestled directly in the center of his chest. The physics involved were amazing.

This did not please Spike. The vampire lay still for a moment, thinking of all the different things he would do once he stood. He could feel the weight of Boromir who had landed on top of him, and waited patiently while the Man pulled himself up. Taking his time, and feeling the full attention of the room, Spike rose.

Buffy stood next to Legolas, staying his hand from drawing another arrow. Spike kept his eyes on her as he worked the bent arrow free from his chest. Once it was out he walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps. Without a word he held the arrow in front of her face, broke it in two with one hand, and let the pieces fall to her feet. He then turned and stalked away to the kitchen to find rum.

* * *

Buffy watched Spike go, uncertain what exactly had just happened. She was considering going after him when Dawn rushed in.

"Buffy!" her sister cried, face flush with excitement. "Spike was just so cool! He totally saved us from Warren who kidnapped me and Frodo and knocked Tara out and now he has the Ring and – oh my God you're Legolas!"

The teen-ager stopped short, looking up at the Elf. Legolas inclined his head slightly, as though acknowledging his inherent coolness.

"Wait, slow down speed-girl," Buffy said. "Warren has the Ring?"

Dawn nodded eagerly. "I think the nerds brought the 'Lord of the Rings' characters here so they could get the Ring and, um, take over the world or something. It's not really clear. Isn't this just so cool?"

Buffy remembered how angry Aragorn was and how incredibly desperate the situation seemed to their guests. Also, assuming the Ring had all the power here it did in the books, the Hellmouth had just inherited a very big problem. She could feel her previous good humor rapidly evaporating.

Tara helped Boromir into the living room and onto the couch. Frodo, Merry and Pippin stood in the foyer, looking afraid to come in farther. Sam had joined them the moment he saw Frodo and flung his arms around his master in what was presumably a show of servant loyalty Hobbit-style. All the same, it felt inappropriate to watch and Buffy focused her attention on the injured Boromir.

"What happened?" she asked, joining Tara at his side.

"Warren shot him in the leg," Tara answered, helping Boromir lean back and placing a pillow under the injured limb.

"Warren has a gun?"

"He did. Spike took it."

"Spike?"

"He saved us. According to Dawn. I was sort of unconscious for that part. But whatever happened, he seems to have permanently won her heart."

Buffy turned to look at her sister. She was gathered with the Fellowship members around Frodo, who had been transported to a chair on the opposite side of the room. The girl didn't seem as concerned with the Hobbit as she was with being near the fictional characters. She looked very young and innocent in that moment, and Buffy felt the desire to protect her as strongly as ever.

Boromir made a noise, returning Buffy's attention. "Should we take him to the hospital?"

"If you think your insurance will cover movie characters. Anyway, I don't think it looks that bad. Mostly a flesh wound. I may know a healing spell for it, with Aragorn's help."

"Aragorn?"

"He's a really amazing healer. It's kind of a deal in the books. He could probably fix Boromir by himself, except I don't think they know about lead bullets in Middle-Earth."

"Okay. I'll get him for you."

Buffy approached Isildur's heir with some trepidation. She'd already offended him several times that evening, and it had gotten to the point she feared the fact of her presence might provoke him. As was when she tapped his shoulder he stiffened and turned toward her with his hand at the ready to draw his weapon.

"Boromir's hurt, Tara thought you could help," Buffy said, suddenly wondering if there was a more formal way she should address him.

The Man nodded curtly and went without word. Buffy watched him, surprised by the gentleness he exuded as he lay hands on the injured soldier. She stood captivated for a moment, then remembered Spike was in her kitchen and most likely in the process of becoming very drunk.

When she found him he did indeed have Gimli's rum. He was also topless and using the alcohol to dab at several severe wounds through his torso. Buffy caught her breath at the sight.

The arrow Legolas shot had left a gaping wound when it was pulled out, at least three inches around. The vampire's lack of circulation meant what little blood there was had crusted, but this somehow made the sight more gruesome. Just below – where his heart was – a sword had punctured through leaving a two-inch incision that she was certain originated on the other side of his body.

The reality of what Spike had gone through to save Dawn hit her fully in that moment. She felt a rush of gratitude and remorse, and stood uncertain in the doorway, wondering what to say.

Spike glanced up, then continued his work as though he hadn't seen her. After a moment he said, "You don't have a spare top I could borrow, do you?"

"What?"

"Well, shirt's ruined. All covered in blood and holes. And I'd rather not be running 'round half naked with that lot in the house," he nodded toward the living room. "Half of them are shagging the other, mark my words."

Buffy smiled slightly, bemused. She doubted the sight of his mutilated corpse would attract anyone at that moment, though she knew from experience with Angel it would heal quickly. In a few weeks there might remain just the traces of a scar. "Spike – " she started, then stopped, uncertain how to continue. After a moment she pressed on with the reason she'd sought him. "It's really great, what you did. Saving everyone. Dawn."

Spike snorted. "So I'm a hero now."

"Just don't…Dawn trusts you. I don't want her being hurt."

Spike stiffened and pierced Buffy with a glare of such intensity she almost took a step back. After a moment he returned silently to the tending of his wounds.

Buffy sighed. For everything Spike was, he did care about Dawn and she knew her lack of trust hurt him. But the fact remained he was a vampire without a soul, and she doubted all his best intentions could make him worthy of a fifteen-year-old girl's adoration.

"I could hurt you," Spike said suddenly. Buffy started at the unexpectedness of his voice, spoken in calm conversational tones. "I could have killed you a hundred times by now, things you let me do to you. The way you trust me when it's dark." He put down the cloth he'd been using to clean his chest and faced her fully. "But I don't. I love you. More than I ever loved anyone, I love you. And I love Dawn. I took care of her every day you were dead. I earned her trust Buffy, same as I earned yours. I would never hurt her."

"There are other ways to hurt people besides killing them, Spike," Buffy responded, and off his surprised look added, "God, the fact that I even have to tell you that means I should ban you from ever coming near Dawn again. Or me."

Spike moved suddenly and grabbed her arm, gripping it so tight it would bruise. "I bloody well know there are more ways to hurt people," he hissed. "Agony you put me through these last two years. I just saved your kid sis and half the Fellowship for you, and this is my thanks?"

Buffy calmly looked him in the eyes. "Let go of my arm, Spike."

"No." He said, moving in closer. "No, you love me. You say you want me to go, but you keep needing me."

"Let go of my arm or I'll break your wrist."

Spike gripped tighter for a moment, as though testing her. Then he let go and stepped abruptly back. "Fine. Have it your way." He grabbed what was left of his shirt and headed for the front door. "Good luck saving the world without me."

Buffy watched him leave with mixed emotions, mostly relief. Then Spike pulled the front door open and stopped, as though surprised by something. From her vantage in the kitchen Buffy couldn't see what but then she heard Jonathan's timid voice.

"Um…I need to talk to Buffy. Is she here?" The young man asked as though he had not been systematically attempting to ruin her life for the past six months.

"She's in the kitchen. Here," Spike pulled the gun he'd holstered in his pants out and handed it to Jonathan. "Better hurry, first shot's free but then she'll have ya."

"What? No, I – "

Buffy strolled through the living room, assuring the attention of everyone present as she went to the foyer. She leaned against the doorframe that separated the two rooms, and crossed her arms over her chest. "What do you want, Jonathan?" she asked. The boy nearly jumped at the sight of her and dropped the weapon reflexively. Buffy let it lay where it landed and merely watched him, along with everyone else in the room. "You have five seconds to start talking before I call the police. Five four three – "

"Warren made me do the spell! I didn't want to but he made me and I didn't know he wanted the Ring!"

"Right." Spike grabbed Jonathan by his shirt and hauled him into the living room. He threw him into a chair that mirrored the one Frodo sat on. The vampire glared over the boy, dominating him and blocking him from Buffy's view. "You're the one responsible for why I'm not home drunk right now and why I currently have a gaping chest wound and a splitting head-ache that won't die. I want to go home and be done with this mess, but more I don't want to run into any more 'Lord of the Rings' characters waiting to punch me full of holes. So you'll tell exactly what happened, who you brought here, why, and how you intend to send them back. And if you don't tell the truth exactly, Slayer says I get to eat you after she kills you."

During Spike's speech Buffy had grabbed the fallen gun and tucked it into the back of her jeans. She then placed herself strategically so that when Spike moved she would be the first person Jonathan saw. Aragorn and Legolas joined her, the Ranger standing to her right nearest the door and Legolas on her left. Xander, Willow and Dawn stood on the left side of Jonathan's chair. The Hobbits had gathered with Gimli and Anya on the other side. Tara remained on the couch with Boromir, though both were clearly listening. When Spike stood back with the finality of his last words, Jonathan found himself surrounded by the combined members of the Fellowship and Scoobies. He swallowed audibly.

After a moment of quiet though obvious panic, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I…I wanted to do the spell. But just to meet the characters from 'Lord of the Rings', that's all I swear! But Warren kept going on about the Ring and how we could be as powerful as Sauron."

"So you decided it'd make a fun game to take over the Hellmouth with It," Xander supplied.

"No!" Jonathan shot back. "I didn't want to do it at all. But once we'd agreed Warren wouldn't let me back out. I told him I'd do it so just the Ring appeared, but I changed it to bring the entire Fellowship. I figured that way he still wouldn't get It."

"You thought we would protect your lands from this agony you visited upon yourself, when we were sundered and lost in a world beyond our comprehension?" Aragorn demanded.

"I didn't know what else to do." The words came out exactly like a whine.

"You could have faked trying to do the spell and pretend it went wrong," Willow pointed out.

"Or made it so the Fellowship came _without_ the Ring," Xander suggested.

"Or here's a thought, you could call the police. Turn Warren in for murder. Kind of solve all your problems, as long as the whole being an accomplice thing didn't come up," Buffy finished.

"Look, I thought if I could do the spell so Frodo ended up with Buffy there'd be no way Warren could get at the Ring."

"Really? How'd that plan work out for you?" Dawn asked bitterly.

"Not so good," Jonathan answered, seemingly unfazed. "I did this 'like to meet like' spell, so that the characters in the Fellowship would each meet up with the Scooby they most resembled. I figured that way Frodo would end up with Buffy, since they're both unlikely heroes who hold the fate of the world on their shoulders."

"But Frodo didn't show up at Buffy's. He appeared in Tara's dorm," Dawn objected.

"I know. That's what went wrong. The spell picked up on things I didn't think of, and it put Frodo with Dawn instead. I think it's 'cause, um, you both need to be rescued so much." Jonathan seemed to realize there was a better way to phrase it even as the words left his mouth. As was Dawn scowled but said nothing, and no one present could really disagree with the assertion.

"Instead I got Aragorn," Buffy said.

"Right," Jonathan nodded eagerly. "You were both born to a heroic destiny you were reluctant and afraid to fulfill. And you're both leaders with epic romances and…"

"You might want to shut up before I punch you," Buffy interrupted, at the same time Aragorn said, "You would do wise to hold your tongue."

"Right." The nerd quieted. "I'm just saying, the spell worked, just not how I thought."

"Hold on, how come I got two?" Spike demanded. He had moved to stand just behind and over Jonathan's left shoulder. "First Legolas jumped me, then Boromir rammed me with his sword."

There was a pause during which the Scoobies tactfully did not laugh at the unintentional double entendre. Jonathan actually did giggle a little, but he stifled it quickly. The Fellowship members remained ignorant, as seemed to be their nature.

"I did not first arrive at the place of our encounter," Boromir spoke. He had brought himself to a seated position on the couch with his injured leg resting on the coffee table. "I was in a building of many heights, like the city of Minas Tirith though the walls were made not of stone. Before me stood a gray door with the numbers 2-3-3 written in gold."

"That would be my apartment," Xander said.

"I heard voices beyond, shouting and angry."

"That's when we found Gimli in the kitchen," Anya supplied. "Both he and Xander were very loud," she added admiringly.

"I did not…I did not recognize the voices I heard," Boromir continued, obviously embarrassed by his failure. "I sought to leave rather than face an uncertain confrontation. After much trial I found steps leading to the outside. Once free I traveled uncertain over this land until by chance I saw Legolas walking with the immortal monster. I kept my distance at first, lest my eyes deceive me and it be a trap. Then before I could choose to make myself known Legolas disappeared into one of the beasts of metal. I tried to follow but the premise quickly proved difficult beyond reason. I returned to the place he first boarded the beast, in small hope he would return. It was then I encountered the monster Spike."

"Would that you had come forward before," Legolas bemoaned. "I sensed the shadow step of another, but gave no sign lest I arouse an enemy."

"So I got both Gimli and Boron?" Xander asked. "That doesn't make sense."

"Boromir," Anya corrected. "And clearly Gimli came to me because of our mutual appreciation for monetary values and aesthetic appeal. Boromir was yours. Probably because both of you have failed to live up to your own expectations and feel inadequate amongst your friends."

"Thank you for that insight," Xander said, as though hoping the others present hadn't heard.

"Your welcome," Anya responded brightly.

"The spell kind of took over on its own," Jonathan said. "I didn't really think about who the Fellowship members would end up with besides Frodo. It was kind of a shock when we got Merry and Pippin."

"Hold on, Merry and Pippin showed up at your place?" Xander asked. "Didn't you do the spell so only Scoobies would get unexpected visitors from their ninth grade English assignments?"

Jonathan looked increasingly uncomfortable. "Like I said, the spell took over. I couldn't say 'Scoobies', so I made Buffy a focal point and everyone who's had the most contact with her over the last six months got Fellowship members."

Buffy had always suspected she underestimated the intelligence of the Trio. She now realized "underestimated" wasn't the problem. "'The most contact'? Should I be calling the 'Double-Meat Palace'? 'Cause funny thing about working eight hours or more a day, I tend to spend a lot of time with my co-workers."

"Oh. I…"

"Didn't think of that," Willow finished. The anger in her voice was palpable. "You were working with powerful, destructive magicks and you got so caught up in what you could do you completely lost sight of what you were doing or what could happen. There's no way to know who all your spell brought forth, or where they appeared."

"We can expect no less," Aragorn spoke. "A mortal must trade a piece of his soul to perform magic. To seek out such powers bespeaks of great darkness within. To achieve them is to give Evil a permanent residence within one's heart."

Willow looked at him startled for a moment, then quickly away. "Excuse me," she murmured and fled the room, running up the stairs. Buffy was about to give chase when Tara got up from the couch with an apology to Boromir and followed after Willow.

Buffy smiled at this small moment of hope for the ex-lovers, then returned her attention to Jonathan. "Okay, so, did a stupid spell. Went bad. How do we fix it?"

"That's the tricky part," Jonathan sighed. And then he explained.


	6. Oh Unhappy Elf

**Disclaimer: **See prologue.

**A/N: **Sorry for the amazing delay. I haven't abandoned this story, really. I promise you can expect regular updates from now on.

A Little Escapism

Chapter Five

"Oh Unhappy Elf"

Legolas did not know what he understood. Just as things seemed to find focus, his mind would rebel at the very notion of what was said. He was left stranded in confusion, with no Song to steady him. Instead a sinister current threaded the air, as though the world could break apart at any moment, sundered open by the evil at its core.

Did the mortals not notice? Aragorn seemed calm, unaffected by the underlying darkness, if he felt it at all. But how could he not? The earth itself was tainted. Surely a Man raised by Elves would sense it, if no other.

At long last the meeting ended. The Hobbits led the way to the dining room following Sam's promise of food. Most of the mortals followed at their insistence. Spike went outside, presumably to smoke his strange self-burning pipe. Jonathan expressed an interest in Sam's food, but was denied by all present. The boy was sent to return to the villain who now held the Ring, lest his absence arouse suspicion.

Something resembling a plan had been formed, though the details drifted beyond Legolas' grasp. They were vague ideas, unreal in their scope. Instead he found palpable the fear and darkness of the earth, was overwhelmed by the need to escape.

Aragorn sat again at Boromir's side, examining the injured leg. Legolas watched him, feeling lonely in his fear. He needed to communicate with his friend the danger of the land, needed it understood by another as viscerally as the elf felt it.

"It is foolishness!" Boromir was protesting as Legolas approached. "To place trust so willingly in one who would cause such havoc is madness! The people of this place cannot be trusted Aragorn. We must find our own way back, without the poison they would call help."

"Shh, calm yourself," the healer murmured, gently pressing Boromir back against the couch. "You can do little until your leg is repaired."

"I can do less while held prisoner here."

The women Tara and Willow appeared then, Tara carrying a large pot of steaming water. "Sorry this took so long. It took a bit to properly add the herbs you wanted." At some point the two had returned after Willow's abrupt exit, and Aragorn had chosen them for this errand.

"You would treat me with a substance you did not prepare yourself!" Boromir exclaimed aghast.

"The methods of this place are strange to me. I thought my time better spent with you than learning how to boil water," Aragorn answered curtly.

Legolas carefully watched the two women. The darkness he sensed in Willow seemed lessened somehow, tempered by the good of her friend. There was something more, a connection between the two that evoked a light dearly needed in this dark land. "You may trust them." Legolas said calmly, turning an assuring gaze upon Boromir.

The Man opened his mouth to protest again, but Legolas spoke before he could. "Aragorn, I would speak with you at your nearest convenience." Aragorn met his eyes, and nodded briefly his understanding.

Satisfied by the promise of a confidante, Legolas went to the dining room to add his presence to the company surrounding Frodo. The Hobbit sat at the end of the table furthest from the entrance, cuddled between Merry and Pippin, with Sam a doting presence as he hurried about the table, refilling glasses and offering more food.

Buffy and Xander sat across from them, animatedly discussing something Legolas didn't understand. Gimli sat at the near end, drinking and laughing with Anya. Everyone seemed happy and relaxed, as though they did not now face an even greater peril than before. The elf retreated to one corner, choosing not to be seen.

Spike joined him after a moment.

The vampire entered the room mostly unnoticed (only Buffy glanced at him briefly) and seemed to have no trouble locating Legolas despite his efforts at privacy. He tensed in anticipation of whatever rude comment or remark the beast would make to draw the attention of the room, but Spike held his silence like bait. He leaned as though casual against the wall beside the elf, arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look at Legolas, though the smirk he bore had an unmistakable target.

Legolas waited for the turn of Gimli's or another's head as they sensed Spike's presence, but none did. So in this regard vampires were like elves. Legolas wondered if this was the reason then he had been companioned to the creature, for he could see none of his own qualities in the being of death. Nor did he want to.

The effort to make comparisons between himself and a thing that radiated evil would have been tiring in the best of circumstances. Now Legolas found it intolerable. Instead he tried to concentrate his attention on Frodo and how the fair Hobbit was handling his separation from the Ring.

Frodo laughed with his companions when they laughed, and smiled readily at their attentions. It might appear the burden of the Ring had been lessened now that he was no longer Its bearer. But. There was something more – a tension about the eyes and mouth, a tiredness that slowed the Hobbit's responses. His smiles faded quickly when there was none to notice them. If anything, Legolas realized, the burden the Ring weighed on him more heavily than ever. Frodo had been charged with guarding It, and whatever comfort companions might offer, the Hobbit was guilted by his failure. Not only that, the Ring would call to be reclaimed by one who had held it close for so long. Legolas could only guess at the emotional and physical toll this forced separation was having on Frodo.

He hoped now the gentleness of his race would keep the Hobbit from sensing the utter darkness of the earth and jarring discordance of Song in these lands. He hoped that – was Spike laughing?

Legolas turned fully to look at the vampire. Spike raised his eyebrows in mocking innocence, a soft chortle in his throat. Legolas looked wildly about the room, though none appeared disturbed.

Frustrated he swiftly exited through the doorway to the kitchen. Spike followed close behind. "Your boy doesn't look so good, does he?" the villain said conversationally. "Maybe he's feeling a bit of withdrawal from this Ring? Addict needs his fix."

The allusion wasn't entirely lost on Legolas, and the statement so closely mirrored his own thoughts he found it jarring. "Why do you taunt me so?" he burst out, furious, wondering again what reason there was to keep this creature alive.

"You have such good reactions," Spike replied. "And if we're gonna be bonded at the hip for this little plan, we should get to know each other a little, don't you think? Spend some quality time, hiding in a corner."

"I was not hiding." It sounded childish, his defiance. The fact that he chose to answer at all spoke of the deep wrongness of the place, how off-balance Legolas was. And Spike knew. Was goading him. There was something else about what it had just said… "Bonded? You and I are to…what bonding?" Legolas stammered, unable to comprehend something he thought he understood.

"You know, the grand plan, send you all back to Neverland. Surely you remember, desperate as you are to get out of here."

"There is a spell that must be broken…"

"Right." Spike let out an impatient sigh, which was interesting considering it didn't breathe. "And the way to break it is we all join hands and sing kumbaya, buddy system. Stupid. Everyone knows any decent spell ends by breaking a talisman, not some overdone ritual."

For some reason though the vampire spoke nonsense Legolas understood him clearly. "I am to be paired with you."

"Boy you must have skipped right to the head of your class. Don't miss a thing after it's explained five times."

"I would not question the wit of one who holds your life by the will of his quiver," Aragorn said, striding in from the living room.

"You know, that threat gets more annoying every time I hear it," Spike shot back. "What is it with you hero-types? You think because I can't feed myself proper I can't defend myself? News flash kiddies, I'm still around for a reason, and it's not just because no one's tried to do me in yet. Legolas and Boromir have already tried several times and it's barely past midnight!" With that he left out the back door, slamming it behind him.

Legolas felt an involuntary shudder go through him at Spike's exit. "Worse than any orc are the demons of this land."

"We need not be concerned with them. They are figments of this land, and we need only leave to be rid of them."

Legolas looked at his friend and saw Aragorn felt the assurance of his own words, though the elf found them hollow. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came. Instead, unexpectedly, his eyes filled with water. Embarrassed by his emotion Legolas turned away.

A moment later he felt the warmth of Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "It is difficult for us all to be parted from Middle-earth. I can only imagine the strain it would cause for a Wood Elf."

"It is not that!" he burst out, turning to face his friend with the full import of his words. "Always sleeping in this land there is a horror. It is beyond the powers of Mordor, what lies here. Perhaps even the Black Speech could not frame it fully. Surely you can sense it."

Aragorn pressed his lips together at these words. Carefully, he responded, "These lands are home to such beings as Spike, of course there is darkness in them. You are an Elf, separated from Middle-Earth and her Song, you would sense this darkness first and perhaps none else. But I do not think the horror here is unmatched by our own land of orcs and goblin men."

Legolas shook his head. "You do not understand. To bring the Ring here…Whatever havoc It might reek and people It destroy in Middle-Earth, here It will be used for far worse."

"He's right." Both turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway. "Sunnydale is on top of a Hellmouth, which is basically a main generator of all that is bad. If the Ring feeds on evil, then It just found an all-you-can-eat buffet with no line, and is in the hands of the waiter." After a grave moment she amended, "Or kitchen staff, or food server…whoever it is that works at buffets like that."

Legolas was surprised by the gladness that moved through him in that moment. The relief to have words for the danger he sensed, though his brow furrowed to understand her superfluous speech.

"So you no longer mock our peril?" Aragorn asked.

"It sounds like your peril just became mine in a big way, so no mocking here," she held her hands up in a profession of innocence. "But here's the good. I'm the Slayer. My friends and I have been fighting evil for a long time. Saving the world is pretty much a hobby for us at this point. And now we've got your whole new group of fighters to help us, plus a laid out plan to follow. I'm not saying we're not in serious danger, but the odds are already a hell of a lot better than most times."

"You would not offer hope so easily if you understood the power of the Ring." Aragorn said quietly, eyes dark.

"Maybe not," she conceded. "But the world hasn't ended yet, and as long as that's true, I'll keep fighting."

If she intended to inspire them, for Legolas the weight in her voice had the opposite effect. There was no paradise to defend in this land, only a continuous battle against evil. Whatever power claimed good had cast this woman as leader, without giving her benefit of choice. She would keep fighting, staying destruction until she was herself destroyed.

Legolas understood this because Buffy did. It was the subtext of all her words, made worse by their intent to calm him. In that moment he made a decision, and answered her coldly. "I do not seek to save this world. The Ring has found Its true home. Let It remain here, and do as the very land wills. My companions and I will return to Middle-Earth if possible, but ultimately our fate is irrelevant. Our home is safe. The Quest was successful."

There was a pause as Buffy took this in. After a moment she said, "Okay, remember the part where your land is a made up story and this is reality? That's still true. Which means Middle-Earth only exists because the people here imagine it does. If we die, so will you."

"If this land be real and ours only an imagined dream, I would dash my skull upon a rock ere I live without the trust of trees." Legolas answered. Before she could respond he left swiftly out the door, into the uncompassionate night.

There he paused on the step, breathing in cold air. For a moment he felt adrift, lost without Song or thought. Then, almost imperceptible, he felt the gentle of cadence of connection. Eyes closed, he moved toward it.

* * *

The plan as Jonathan explained it was simple enough. Each Sunnydale resident would go with the Fellowship member they were paired with to the location the Fellowship member first appeared. At exactly twenty-four hours from the time of the original appearance the pairs would join hands and say ritualized words, then separate, sending the Fellowship members home.

Possible complications included getting the Ring back from Warren in time, having Andrew perform the ritual (with Merry and Pippin and no warriors to defend them), and having Spike perform the ritual. The last was an issue since the exact time of first appearance was 5:27pm when it was still daylight by vampire standards.

Spike was mulling over this plan as he wandered the deserted streets of Sunnydale. He'd decided to leave getting the Ring back for Buffy and the Scoobies, since he'd already overreached his limit of heroism for the day.

Though he wondered about this Ring. It was the sort of thing Angelus would be all over in the old days, great way to take over the world and that. As a rule Spike didn't care much for grand-scale evil. It was too much work, and once you got to the top someone was usually waiting to chop your head off. He preferred unplanned mayhem, attacking victims in alleys, that sort of thing.

However, the chip had changed things. He couldn't kill anymore. He couldn't rape. He couldn't torture. It was all so unfair. Buffy had been a distraction for him. Life without murder was boring, at least with Buffy he could have sex. And now that was over. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he didn't love her. How could he? He was a vampire; his purpose was to kill the Slayer. The chip made it impossible, so he'd channeled his natural hate into something more lustful. That was all. And now the Ring offered a way out.

He'd already seen what It could do for a dweeb like Warren. Imagine the effect for a century old vampire such as himself? Spike doubted the chip's technology could withstand the will of the Ring. And once free from such bondage, he would finally be able to kill Buffy and all her Scooby friends, and then the rest of Sunnydale. He had a vision of the town crumbled into the earth, a proper vengeance for everything it had put him through these last three years. Then, once word of what he had done grew, Drusilla would undoubtedly return to him. He could rampage the country, the world, with her at his side, and no creature would not know and tremble at his name.

These thoughts brought more thoughts. And each thought made the vampire smile a little more, until he was humming without being aware of it. And then he was skipping. Without noticing it, Spike changed directions, and began to head toward the Ring.

* * *

"Do you agree with him?" Buffy asked Aragorn, following Legolas' exit.

"I would not choose one land so hastily over another," the Man answered slowly. He had moved to lean against the doorframe separating the kitchen from the living room. He appeared remarkably calm, as though all this was was an exercise in thought. "However, I would not return the Ring to Middle-Earth. However you may fathom it, Middle-Earth is real. I am pledged to protect it."

"What makes you think Middle-Earth is safe with the Ring here? If I have this right, the Ring will always try to get back to the Big Bad that made it. Which means It'll eventually find Its way back to Middle-Earth, maybe destroying a few worlds like mine on the way."

Aragorn nodded slowly, taking this in. Now adjusted to the situation, his nature had a very quieting effect. The way he thought things through before speaking…it stirred in Buffy a kind of trust. "The Ring must be destroyed. It is folly to believe otherwise, however tempted we may be to declare our Quest at its end. Legolas understands this. He is merely made distraught by the foreign nature of your world."

"I hope so," Buffy said. "Things have a tendency to work better when everyone's on the same track. What I said before wasn't a lie. We are very good at saving the world. And, honestly, Ring or no Ring, I can't imagine Warren would be too much for us to handle."


	7. Raising an Army

**Disclaimer: **See prologue

A Little Escapism

Chapter Six

"Raising an Army"

It was cold. It was dark. Frodo didn't like him. Variations of these words played through Jonathan's mind as he tramped back to the stupid "evil lair" basement he and his friends called home.

None of it was fair. He was an original, true "Lord of the Rings" fan. He'd grown up reading the books and always identified himself with Frodo. Small and heroic, forced to bear an extraordinary burden. Exactly what Jonathan's extraordinary burden was changed depending on his mood, but that didn't make it any less real to his mind. And now he'd had the chance to meet the actual Frodo. Only instead of being able to bond with him the way he'd always imagined, the real Frodo wanted nothing to do with him.

Because of Warren. Warren, who suggested they become villains like in comic books. Villains who would rob banks and try to take over Sunnydale and not need anyone else. It was fun in the beginning. Playing tricks on Buffy and her friends, playing with magic and the rush of pretending to live outside the rules. But then the thing with Katrina happened, and they weren't pretending anymore. Suddenly they really were bad guys, who attempted rape and committed murder. And Jonathan realized just how dangerous his friends were, and how trapped he was.

He couldn't go to the police because he was afraid. The idea of jail terrified him too much to risk it by turning Warren in. Jonathan wasn't a hero. He took the path of least resistance and did whatever someone in charge told him to do.

So he didn't turn Warren in, he just kept doing what he was told. The latest – bringing characters from Lord of the Rings to life – had seemed okay at first. When Warren described it, it had sounded like before Katrina, when everything was still innocent. Only Warren didn't want the characters, just the Ring, and he wasn't excited and distracted by Merry and Pippin appearing, just upset that the Ring wasn't with them. It wasn't fun, or innocent like it was supposed to be.

Jonathan hadn't really believed the Ring would work here, but It did. He could hear It whisper to him, the way the books described, and he tried not to but he couldn't help being tempted. Not so much he couldn't see what It was doing to Warren though.

Warren scared him now. The Ring had worked Its way inside his brain, when he talked it didn't sound like Warren, it sounded like the Ring. Suddenly he was making plans to actually take over Sunnydale, with a vampire and demon army. They were going to kill not just Buffy, but Faith and potentially all future Slayers, which to Jonathan sounded uncomfortably like the mass murder of millions of teen-age girls.

As for Andrew, the third member of their Trio was as under the spell of the Ring as Warren, and apparently even more deluded. Andrew seemed to think that Warren would be sharing It with him once the army was underway, and the two would eventually rule the world as equal partners. This was no doubt the fantasy the Ring was feeding him, but it did not bode well for Andrew's level of intelligence that he believed it.

So Jonathan was alone in his up-close view of the Ring and Its influence on weak, corrupt minds. There was no one there to guide him, or tell him exactly what was the right thing to do when Warren was there with the Ring giving orders. So he continued to do what he was told, because he didn't know what else to do.

Jonathan arrived at the house, went in the basement entrance. Warren was hunched over the table, intently figuring something out. He looked up at him. "Were you successful?"

"Yes," the boy sighed, feeling the weight of the Ring pull him downward, making him subservient and helpless. "The Scoobies will try to send the Fellowship back tomorrow night."

"Perfect." Warren smiled.

* * *

The tree had not lived long, barely fifty years, though it was wise for that. It knew of the Dark Ones, who drew on blood and offered none. It knew of the pulsing Hellmouth, whose energy would grow, erupt, and fade with each year. It understood the essential magic of this earth, the dueling energies of healing and destruction that held it in balance. The tree lived fully in and of this land, and knew it only as home.

Its roots burrowed in a soil that was not unkind, if tainted. Its branches spread upward and out, dancing over the top of a house, offering glimpses of other trees that dotted throughout an unfamiliar landscape. It was here in the uppermost part that Legolas rested. The tree had called to him at his most troubled, singing a gentle rhythm it had learned from the Girl.

The Girl had once moved through its branches. Almost every night she would visit, using the tree as a support for her heroic missions. Her body was light, made strong by a cadence almost imperceptible, though life giving. The tree grew from this cadence, its roots thickened and branches stretched. Eventually the Girl's visits ceased, though she remained near. The tree hummed always with the power of her vibration. It was an element of love the soil sick with Hellmouth could not offer.

Legolas recognized this love as the land's missing notes of Song, and was able to match the tree's call with his own, until sound smoothed into one and together they hummed a gentle lullaby. So it was that Legolas found comfort in this strange, disrupted land.

And shadows moved.

* * *

Spike was not alone. At first, he only sensed the others as they moved through the shadows and below, in the sewer. Gradually they became bolder. Vampires filtered into the street, accompanied by the occasional variety of demon. He didn't initially care, feeling focused on his growing intentions for world domination. However, it did occur to him that it was odd so many other demons in Sunnydale to be going in the same direction.

He began to look at his traveling companions. Most of the Sunnydale vampires were unremarkable as a rule. Fools attracted by the Hellmouth, existing by luck more than wit. There wasn't a vampire over twenty-years turned in the group, he would guess. As for the demons, the ones he saw seemed fearsome in stature and strength, but not in cunning. All around Spike beasts moved with a kind of shambling confusion, eyes glazed with visions not their own.

_They'd make a good army,_ he thought absently. _Not a mind among them to threaten authority._

At some point, Spike stopped moving.

* * *

Warren stood at the head of the room. On the wall behind him was pinned the blueprint of Sunnydale he'd been intent on for the last several hours. In his right hand he brandished a baton pointer as one might a royal staff, holding court over the entering demons.

Andrew stood behind and a little to the side of him, trying to look important. He was the Vice President of Operation Take Over Sunnydale, after all. Jonathan stood on the other side of Warren, looking despondent. This made sense. Jonathan was only the Assistant Vice President and no doubt jealous.

Andrew watched Warren with growing admiration as his hero welcomed the first arrivals of the army he had promised. These were the terrors of night, gathered by the power of one great enough to wield the Ring. The Trio now controlled the vampires, demons and forces of darkness. They were like, real bad guys now. It was cool.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here," Warren began, when the room filled to capacity. Other demons crowded outside the doors, still arriving. "Or what awesome power I a mere human wield that would draw you. All you need to know is the power is mine, it is real, and you are helpless before me."

Warren paused for dramatic effect.

Then he continued.

"Sunnydale is above a Hellmouth. It pulsates with pure evil, yet humans live and raise children here without fear. Is that what Mayor Richard Wilkins envisioned when he founded this town over a hundred years ago in exchange for immortality and turning himself into a snake?"

There was a stir in the crowd, indicating a consensus of probably not.

"No! So, I ask you, why do vampires cower in the sewers? Why do demons only come out at night? Why is all of California not trembling under the weight and power of Hell?"

There was another stir as the audience tried to think of an answer. "The Slayer?" A young vampire toward the front of the room ventured.

"The Slayer, a teen-age girl mildly more athletic than a skilled martial artist. How many demons in this room can match her strength? Are you telling me that one of her is enough to stop all of you?" he gestured grandly to the dozens present in the room.

"No!" An excited, generic-looking demon near the back shouted.

"Do you mean that?" Warren asked. "Because she has been. And before Buffy Summers came to town, there was no Slayer here. And still the demons did not rule the streets. So, what's been stopping you? I'll tell you. Poor leadership.

"You've been working individually, killing here, scaring there, without any real focus. If you really want to make a difference in this town, you have to start working together under someone's clear direction. I am that someone. If you listen to me, the Slayer will die, and the humans will tremble. Sunnydale will look like Mayor Wilkins' dream, with humans living as the snack food they were meant to be. All within a week."

"You're human," an astute vampire observed.

Warren pulled a wooden stake out of his back pocket and threw it hard. A moment later the vampire who had spoken exploded in dust. The room hushed with respect. "I am a human with power," Warren stated coldly. "To doubt me is to bring yourself instant death. I am your leader. Now, who would like to hear my plan?"

A few tentatively raised their hands. "Good." Warren turned to address the map of Sunnydale, using the pointer. "This is the city capital, and these are the sewers which run under it. Mayor Wilkins built a special entrance just for vampires here. Since his Ascension it has been sealed off, which means you'll have to blast your way inside. That's okay. We want you to make a big entrance.

"Twenty vampires will swarm the capital, feeding on all the humans you like. At the same time, another twenty will break into the local news station here. In the morning I'll do a live broadcast, reporting the news that vampires and demons have gone on a rampage through the night, pulling people from their homes and killing them. I will declare myself as the only one able to control these monsters and set up my residence in the capital. In one night, with me as your leader, we will transform this town. Then, on to the next, and so on, indefinitely."

"What about the Slayer and her friends?" someone in the crowd asked.

"My friends and I already have a plan to take care of them." Warren answered. "You don't need to worry about them. Just meet here tomorrow night at seven."

Andrew felt a little thrill. Everything was going to work.


	8. The Liability of Warriors

A Little Escapism

Chapter Seven

"The Liability of Warriors"

Spike had been standing outside the basement entrance during Warren's speech. He moved now to the side of the house to wait for the assembled demons to leave. Everything was clear. The events of the night stood out in his mind like shards of glass, shimmering and bright with meaning. Jonathan's plan was a clumsy attempt at betrayal – the new spell would send the Scoobies into Middle-Earth with the Fellowship, leaving Warren here with the Ring.

The last of the demons passed him, disappearing as phantoms into the night. Deep in the earth Spike felt the thrum of the Hellmouth, pulsing as a drum. It's call to violence coursed through him, filling Spike with visions of massacres past, and the feel of Slayers dying by his hand. Never had the vampire felt so powerful, so capable as in that moment. The idea of getting the Ring from Warren seemed a paltry thing, akin to snapping a twig beneath his boot.

Blind with visions Spike made a dash for the entrance – and was instantly knocked down. Disoriented, he jumped up and looked for the transgressor. It didn't take long. In a horrible moment of déjà vu he saw a familiar figure standing with bow at the ready, a soft light shimmering about him.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he muttered, just before everything went dark.

* * *

Legolas threw the vampire's unconscious body over his shoulder, leaping lightly into the trees and away from the call of the Ring. As he had feared It was stronger here, he could sense Its temptation underneath the bindings of his heart, and fled lest the visions he saw become too powerful.

He flew through the treetops until the restriction of his chest softened, and he felt something akin to safety once more. Finding a sturdy branch on which to rest he put down his burden. The blow he had driven to Spike's head might have been deadly to a Man, but the Elf sensed a vampire could sustain it. And truthfully, he would rather risk killing Spike than having him be at all awake. Though consciousness would be needed. Eventually.

Before, from the calmness of the tree, he had sensed a disturbance, as a low rumbling within the earth. Looking he saw a gathering of monsters and had followed their path, traveling along the rooftops of the houses. Keeping his distance he had seen Spike standing toward the back of the crowd, fitting in among his fellow demons. Clearly this was the rallying of an army, and Legolas guessed Warren was speaking to the amassed villains. He could not make out words from his perch, though undoubtedly Spike could. When the meeting ended and the demons left, Spike stayed. It was then Legolas saw the lust burn in the vampire's eyes and understood he was now fully under the thrall of the Ring.

He would have liked to kill Spike then, for whatever purpose the Slayer had for keeping the creature alive was now negated by the Ring. It was the need to learn what Spike had heard, and to use his help in returning to Middle-Earth, that stayed Legolas' hand.

Now he waited in patience for Spike to wake, singing to the tree on which he stood, and teaching it the lost notes of Song. There was peace here, he had learned. The thing called Hellmouth did not ruin the sky or the trees, only confused them.

Shortly Spike began to stir. Groggily he tried to sit then almost fell off the branch. With a surprisingly high squeal he grabbed at it, managing to keep his balance. Sitting up so his legs straddled the wide limb, he looked around, eyes narrowing at the sight of Legolas before him. "Um…why am I in a tree?" he asked in a tone that might have been curious.

"We are deep within the forest I first found myself in," Legolas answered. "The trees will protect us here."

"Right." Spike started to stand up, then stopped. "I have got a _splitting_ headache! Where's the Ring? Oh bloody hell, are we doing that stupid spell now? Because I'm not playing along. Buffy and her Scooby friends can get sent back with you all to never say never land but I'm staying here."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear Warren's big speech? The spell Jonathan told us is just a trick to send your group along with the Scoobies away so Warren can take over Sunnydale with the Ring. It's really…not at all brilliant. A child could have come up with it. And not a terribly bright one either. Where's the Ring?"

"It is a trick?" Legolas asked, his heart beating in his ears. To have no known time or way of escape was far worse than to have one he disliked.

"I'm surprised no one saw through it," Spike continued. "Spells end by breaking talismans, not by performing more spells. I said as much. Where's the Ring?"

"So you would know how to end this enchantment?"

"Just have to find the right magical object. Probably some DND dice or a Frodo action figure or something. Did you leave the Ring behind?"

"I do not know what those objects are. Would you be able to recognize the talisman if you saw it?"

"Probably. I'll have to get the Ring first."

Legolas frowned. The Ring was so strong here near the force of the Hellmouth he dared not approach It, or let any other corruptible being near. He also doubted obtaining the talisman could be done without coming into close proximity with the Ring. "We must meet with the others to determine our next action." He concluded aloud.

"Right. Let's do that. I just need to make a quick stop by Warren's first."

Legolas hit Spike over the head, knocking him unconscious once more.

* * *

Willow sat on the edge of her bed, watching the Hobbits sleep. The group had decided all persons paired by the spell should remain close, as a caution against losing each other before the needed time. Sam had of course refused to sleep apart from Frodo, and the other two Hobbits couldn't stay with their partners, so the four cuddled together on her bed as was their nature.

Dawn slept on the floor in a sleeping bag, to maintain her proximity to Frodo. Willow also had a bag laid out, but found herself restless and unable to sleep. She couldn't understand why Sam had been paired with her. Sam, the only Ringbearer ever to give the Ring up willingly. What could she possibly share with one so pure?

She heard the Ring's call. It was whispering to her even now, a low murmur at the edge of her thoughts. She had sensed it before, but that had been okay. She was still connected to the forces of darkness, it made sense she would feel such a strong new presence. But It hadn't stopped. It called to her directly now, persistent. Telling her not to turn away from her power, her magic. If she listened very carefully she could see flashes of a better life, with Tara, and the Hellmouth cowed by her unstoppable power…

Her want was terrifying. She didn't touch the Ring, was miles from It, and yet It _reached_ for her. She didn't know if the Ring wanted her more than the others, for that was Its greatest lie, but it felt true. And she wasn't like Sam. She couldn't resist temptation, her addiction to the magicks was proof of that. Willow felt a great fear for her role in this story, should she come in contact with the Ring.

There was a gentle knock on the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She hurried to answer it before the others woke. Buffy was there, looking as though she had been woken up not long before. "Hey," she said softly. "We're having an emergency meeting downstairs. Something Legolas found out."

"Should we wake the others?"

Buffy frowned, pursing her lips. "Probably."

Willow understood her friend's reluctance. Buffy's instinct was to protect innocents like Dawn or the Hobbits, but with the Ring things were almost reversed. The stronger the hero, the greater the danger posed by the Ring. In a flash Willow realized how much she depended on Sam to protect her from Its temptation.

Perhaps that was the reason for their pairing.

* * *

Legolas paced the length of the kitchen, taking care to give wide berth to potential dangers such as the oven, refrigerator and sink. He had chosen to wait here away from company. Upstairs the Hobbits were preparing themselves, gathering what weapons they had. Downstairs, in the basement, Spike was being tied up.

The meeting had not gone as he would have liked. Spike had regained consciousness midway through and become very vocal, ultimately demanding the Ring. Frodo was visibly shaken, his own connection to the Ring apparent in the wan draw of his face and haunted eyes.

Worse than Spike's presence was the ultimate decision of the meeting, agreed to even by Aragorn. The Hobbits were to lead the charge of finding the as yet only theoretical talisman.

Legolas, Aragorn, Buffy and Gimli would serve as guards to the four Hobbits, though they would be forced to shadow at an uncomfortable distance. All of them felt the presence of the Ring, even at this distance, and dared not let themselves be tempted. Spike would be held here as prisoner during the mission rather than killed. The others would stay at the house as guards.

Legolas didn't like the timing of it. Warren planned to act the next day, meaning there was no time to search his place while he was away. They would have to act tonight and hope the villain remained asleep.

Aragorn appeared at the door, silent. He waited for the Elf to look at him before speaking. "It is time."

Legolas stopped for a moment, regarding his friend. Aragorn spoke with weariness beyond simple fear. His face was haggard from lack of sleep, and his voice tinged with a heavy emotion the Ranger strove to hide.

"What ails you _mellon-nin_?" Legolas asked quietly, for the first time forgetting his own despair.

Aragorn remained quiet a long moment, face impassive though his eyes wrestled with an unseen demon. At last he said, "No matter, it is done."

"What is done? What has happened?"

"We seek the Ring here, in an impossible land, our Fellowship broken. I thought it did not matter, but…"

"But what? Our Fellowship is not broken. The sacrifice of one does not – "

"You rewrite the meaning of my words with your own and do not hear," Aragorn murmured.

Legolas waited for him to say more. When the words dissipated into silence he prodded, "Then tell me your meaning."

Aragorn breathed deeply, choosing his words. "It is true Gandalf's sacrifice does not break us. Our Fellowship's bond has never rested in one person, even one so mighty as he. I speak of the moment, friend. Before we came here, when Boromir returned to our camp and told us of his fall."

Legolas felt the rise of a deep fear as the crest of a wave in his breast. He spoke to quell it. "You believe his succumbing to temptation for a few moments is enough to end our Quest?"

"No. No, I believe the moment you – all of you – separated in response to seek a Hobbit who dared not be found broke our Fellowship. You left in fear and would not return. I felt its end and could not stop it. Gandalf's sacrifice did not break us, but I was not enough to hold the Fellowship in his absence. Being brought to this place made me think I was wrong at first. We are all here, united in our mission. Frodo has forgiven Boromir and in time Boromir may forgive himself. I indulged in a fantasy, but the truth has gnawed away our core.

"We did not stand united when it mattered most, and so we cannot succeed as we were. Even if our escape from this place is simple, our return will not be. The Fellowship is broken. Frodo will return the Ring to Mount Doom without us, if at all. We proceed as fragments of a grand idea. It may be enough to return us to Middle-Earth, but it is not enough to destroy the Ring."

Legolas looked at him, taking in his friend's sadness. "I do not know if what you say is true, though my heart aches at your words. Whatever has happened or will come, we are bonded. If our foundation has been shaken, the good is not lost. Never will I not remember the members of this Quest and be better for knowing them."

Aragorn smiled slightly. "Perhaps you are right. Even so my heart is broken and weighted with tragedy. Though if we are only a fairy tale as they say, then our future has been written and known, and my worry is for naught. Come, we delay too long."

Legolas followed his friend into the living room, wondering at his words. Whether he knew it or not, the Ranger felt a hope the Elf did not. That they would return to Middle-Earth safely, and that the Quest, in whatever form, would continue.


	9. Without Magic

**Disclaimer: **See prologue.

**A/N: **Er, um, no more promises about shorter delays between chapters. Just know it's very very close to the end and I will finish it. For all who have kept with this story, thank you.

A Little Escapism

Chapter Eight

"Without Magic"

Warren lay awake, the Ring cold in his hand. He had kept it on a chain around his neck, like Frodo, but came to find It resting chainless in his palm. He hadn't slept that he was aware – the promises of the coming day forbade any real rest – but he had no recollection of taking It into his hand. Little matter. He was glad to hold It, grateful for the tactile sensation. Looking at the Ring was like a confirmation that all dreams would be realized, at this time tomorrow he would become the leader of demons, mobilizing them to overthrow the human population and bow to Warren, Lord of the Ring.

Some small part of his mind remembered Gandalf in the books scolding Pippin for using that title. A reminder there was only one Lord of the Ring, and It would always work to return to him. A part of Warren's mind thought of this, and quailed, but Warren the Leader of Demons cast this fear aside.

With the Ring he had already found he could access magick in ways that surpassed Jonathan. The leg Spike had broken was almost completely healed now, with just a slight ache remaining. Warren had also been able to rapidly improve his strength and aim. The Ring was like a guidebook, showing him all the manners to access his full potential.

In fascination of Its power Warren huddled over the Ring, eyes growing big and staring. Soon he could hear Its whisper again, like a shadow in the air. Warren let any sense of doom slide away, and listened.

And in the darkness outside his door, a figure moved.

* * *

The streets of Big Folk had never been especially welcoming to Hobbits. Everything was big to the point of being overwhelming, and grass and trees were usually limited to the periphery. During the Fellowship's Quest the Hobbits were kept out of Big Folk towns. They would wait at camp while Aragorn or Boromir traveled into each new place for supplies. This was to keep them from attracting attention, and to protect them from being spotted by enemy spies.

At first Merry and Pippin had objected strongly to this, desperate for fresh food and curious about what lay within foreign city walls. Their protests had ceased after a stern look from Gandalf however, and they became content to huddle together and wonder at what strange sights they might be missing.

Now all four Hobbits were entrenched within the strangest city of all. Its dangers were far worse than any before, and they felt abandoned. Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli and Buffy walked around them, ready to spring to their protection at a moment's notice. This was not as comforting as it could be however, since the Ring could turn each of their guardians against them. Boromir had proven that.

All four felt new terror walking into this night, and each repented any wish to ever visit a Big Folk town again. Now the Hobbits moved together down the middle of the street, side by side and hand in hand, with bare feet stepping on the rough stone ground.

They followed a small glowing dot provided by Tara. It led the way to Warren's house. They liked the light. It seemed gentle and patient. One nice thing about this place, magic seemed good, even when used by mortals.

* * *

Willow would not use magic. Not after everything she'd been through. Not when Tara was so close to coming back. She had no reason to.

But.

Wouldn't things be easier if she did a spell? She could have done one to make the talisman they needed glow so the Hobbits could find it. Or even make it come to them so they wouldn't have to venture into Warren's house. Or to bring the Ring to her so It would be safe.

With a start Willow brought herself back. One thought led so easily to the next she couldn't distinguish between her wish and the Ring's. The Ring was a thing to be destroyed, not protected. But the words felt empty in her mind, without conviction.

She'd have to forcibly remind herself the Ring wanted her to take It, to do magic, to dominate the world.

_And what was wrong with that?_

Honestly, at this moment, she didn't know. She could only see a happy world free from demons and evil when she thought about the Ring. She knew better. Part of her always knew better.

So she didn't use magic when she took the key from the kitchen counter. And she unlocked Spike's chains with a clear conscience. It was okay. Everything and everyone was safe. She wasn't using magic.

* * *

Spike had never paid much attention to Willow. She was one of the Slayer's annoying friends. Less so than Xander, more than Anya. She could become pretty dark with the magicks which was interesting, but only mildly so. When he'd first arrived in Sunnydale Spike had imagined her as an appetizer on his way to the Slayer. Even after the chip he'd never quite stopped seeing her as some form of food. He thought her connection to the dark arts would make her blood especially potent, and often fancied she would be his first meal after getting the chip out.

When he fell in love with the Slayer things had changed slightly. He understood killing any of Buffy's friends – even Xander – would mean losing all chance he had with her. So Spike made a promise that no matter what the circumstance, he would never harm any of Buffy's people. Not that his commitment to this vow didn't fluctuate, but the chip made it impossible to break.

It wasn't until now that Spike was genuinely pleased he had never killed Willow. While he was at it, he was also grateful for the chip and all circumstances that had led to this exact moment.

Willow unlocked his chains.

"Legolas already has the Ring, I felt him take It. The Hobbits, Buffy, everyone is in grave danger. I'll get Gimli and Tara to come help, but we have to move fast to stop Legolas."

Spike's gratitude faded. His head still ached from his last encounter with a non-Ring-bearing Legolas, and he remembered what facing Warren with the Ring had been like.

"The others wouldn't want you freed, but I don't think we can stop Legolas without you. You'll have to sneak out somehow, I can create a distraction – "

Instantaneous to her words Spike jumped. There was a small window near the basement's ceiling. He got hold of the windowsill and forced the window open with his right hand. He began to wriggle his way through.

"Okay then." Willow called after him. Spike didn't hear. The taste of the night air, heavy with danger, ignited him. He was free, and the Ring would be his.

* * *

Willow had lied to Spike. It wasn't good for a recovering addict to lie, but it was the only way she could see to delay the Hobbits long enough for her to get to the Ring. Having Spike attack Legolas would most likely lead to his death, but given the vampire's evil intentions for the Ring it was probably for the best.

Needing to hurry Willow turned and began climbing the stairs out of the basement. That was when the door opened. Frozen, Willow could do nothing except let herself be discovered.

"Willow?" Tara stood in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

The worry in Tara's voice broke her. The fascination caused by the Ring dissipated and in an instant Willow realized what she had done and worse, what she had almost done. Feeling weak she stumbled forward. Tara came down to meet her and let her collapse in her arms.

"Tara," she sobbed. "I've done something terrible."


	10. The Best Intentions

A Little Escapism

Chapter Nine

"The Best Intentions"

Willow sat alone on the chair. She leaned slightly forward, hands on her knees, not daring to look at anyone. The tears seemed to have stopped for now, but remained threatening. The others discussed what she had done around her.

"We never should have left him alive to begin with!" Boromir nearly shouted.

"It's not Spike's fault. It's the Ring. You have no idea what he's done for us!" Dawn shot back.

"Okay, forgetting he spent the first four years trying to kill us, yeah, Spike's been great," Xander said. "Right now though, the Hobbits are in danger, and correct me if I'm wrong, but that's a bad thing."

"Except Spike's not targeting the Hobbits, is he?" Tara asked. "I mean, Willow sent him after Legolas, so…"

"So anyone around Legolas is fair game," Xander answered. "We should go, mount up. We've got to stop Spike before he does something really bad."

"Well that's just silly," Anya said.

"Thanks for the support Ahn."

"Well really," she continued. "Legolas is with Aragorn, Gimli and Buffy. Plus the Hobbits defeat Sauron in the story. I don't think Spike stands much of a chance against any of them. The best thing for us is to wait for them to come back."

"Y-You don't think they'll hurt Spike, do you?" Dawn asked.

"What did she say?" Boromir asked. "About the Hobbits?"

"You win, the Ring's destroyed. It's a happy ending."

"Anya!"

"What? Boromir'll die before he has a chance to tell anyone anyway, assuming he even remembers any of this once they return to the book."

"I'll w_hat_?!"

"What if Spike doesn't attack Legolas?" Willow asked quietly. "What if he sees him with the others, and realizes he doesn't have the Ring? What if Spike goes after It instead? No one will know until it's too late."

"Willow's right. We should send someone to warn the others, or look for Spike. But," Tara paused, looking cautious. "We need to be careful. The Ring got to Spike and Willow without either of them ever seeing it. Who knows what effect it could have…." She let the thought linger unfinished.

"What are you saying?" Xander asked. "Do you think it got to the others?"

"N-no…I was thinking It might get to one of us if we went out to w-warn…"

"Yeah, but the Ring has a thing for power, right? And isn't the whole point that the more powerful you are the more likely It'll corrupt you? And didn't we just send out like the most powerful members of our groups to protect the Hobbits? And am I the only one who now sees this as a really stupid plan?"

Silence hung in the air. The idea that the guardians sent with the Hobbits might be corrupted no longer seemed like a mild danger, and suddenly the whisper of the Ring became almost auditory in the room as each person felt vulnerable to Its pull. In the silence an agreement spread that none of them could be trusted as a messenger now, and a worry that the warriors sent would be or were already turned by the Ring.

Dawn broke the spell. "I'll go." She announced, standing up.

"Wow, let's discuss other things that are never gonna happen." Xander said.

"No, honest, It doesn't affect me. Not like you guys. I can tell. I…I think there's another reason Frodo was paired with me."

Willow looked at Dawn in surprise. For a moment as Dawn spoke the green light of the key shimmered around her. The events of the previous year had felt like an anomaly in the time of knowing her, but suddenly Willow felt strongly the falseness of her memories. Dawn's energy was channeled as human now, but she was still a key and would remain one eternally. And Willow believed the Key was an indifferent entity, not prone to corruption. She glanced at Tara and saw a similar recognition in her (ex) lover's eyes.

"Maybe you're right," Tara said. "But it's not just Spike out there we have to worry about. There's Warren's entire army of demons, plus if one or more of the party is corrupted you couldn't stop them."

"Buffy won't be," Dawn said with an almost childish confidence. "And she'll need help."

"Well I think it's a splendid idea," Anya announced. "Send the child," she paused almost imperceptibly, then added, "or I could go."

"No!" Everyone responded in unison.

"Look, we're wasting time. If something went wrong we have to find out. Spike could be anywhere by now." Dawn said.

"You're right," Tara said. "But it's too dangerous. Going out and getting killed isn't going to help anyone."

Dawn started to protest. Willow squeezed her eyes tight. She felt the magicks, baiting her. She could send some sort of warning from here to Buffy. It seemed simple and obvious to her, as it was clear that the detail needed for such a spell was beyond Tara's ability.

With the thought of the spell came a clamoring inside her. Her body's own addiction to the channeling of magick. And then, under that insatiable need, something darker still. The Ring hungered for Willow to slip. It would devour her whole. Willow opened her eyes, shaken. Around her everyone was silent. Dawn sat sulking, having lost her argument.

The six of them would sit here doing nothing in full knowledge of the danger faced by their dearest friends. Held captive not by demons, but their own desires for the Ring.

* * *

Spike moved as quickly as his body would allow. It still ached from its abuses of the night. A vampire could survive being stabbed, shot with arrows, and bludgeoned repeatedly over the head, but a few days to recover would have been nice.

His body's energy was devoted to healing, leaving Spike unusually tired. The idea of stopping Legolas with the Ring would be daunting under the best circumstances. As was, his reflexes felt slow, movement caused pain and the chip was still trigger happy from breaking Warren's leg. It was not the ideal time to pick a fight. Any other day Spike would see his odds, return to his crib and sleep until the next night when – if the world was still around – he would go to the liquor store proper and revel in self-pity with a bottle of whiskey.

It was the Ring that drove him forward, wired him awake and with one focus. He had to take It for his own. Tonight. There might not be another chance. So he stumbled onward, in the direction of Warren's house but along side streets and alleys, trying to catch a glimpse of Legolas before the elf spotted him.

Spike didn't know what had happened so far. Legolas may well have killed everyone in the group already, except Buffy. She was no doubt engaged in an epic battle against him she would either win or escape from for backup.

Some pang of his love for her sounded deep in Spike's mind, and he felt a concern that she might need his help. This was quickly overruled by his ambition for the Ring, and the knowledge that he may have to kill her in the near future. He would help stop Legolas and take the Ring for himself. Buffy would take him on like the Big Bad again and Spike would this time vanquish her properly.

Then he'd have Drusilla back and together they would cut a swath of blood to trump any of their history. It was everything he'd ever wanted only better, for the Ring would ensure none could stand against him.

A noise ahead sharpened Spike's senses. With care he moved forward, coming almost to the main road. There he saw Legolas. The elf moved like a thing of light, appearing almost as a mirage in the dark. Though he walked slowly his manner implied great speed and ability. The hunter in Spike recognized a prey more formidable than any Slayer and was cowed, but overriding sense was his need for the Ring.

Sense wasn't completely gone, however. It pointed out that Legolas was walking slowly because ahead of him were the four Hobbits. To either side Aragorn and Gimli walked, and at the front Buffy. The group seemed peaceful and united, which didn't fit if Legolas had taken the Ring.

Willow had said she felt Legolas take It, and Spike had taken her intuition for granted. Now it seemed she was either mistaken, had knowingly lied, or – less likely – that Legolas was maintaining a pretense.

They were less than four blocks from Warren's house (or, more correctly, the basement). After a moment's speculation Spike ran ahead. If Warren still had the Ring Spike would get It before the posse arrived. If not, he would wait there for Legolas.

* * *

Legolas began to increase his distance from the Hobbits. Subtly at first, though as they neared their destination he fell back more. The voice he had only vaguely encountered before now encroached his mind as strongly as when the Lady Galadriel had tested him. He did not know if the other warriors felt Its effect to the same intensity, but he began to question if they would be able to serve as protection at all when in close proximity with the Ring. Too much of Legolas' energy was already spent resisting It.

Several times he had thought he heard something. As though someone was trailing the company, shadowing along between the houses. Barely conceived monsters readying to attack. Time and again Legolas paused, head tilted in listening, his eyes seeing acutely into the night. Each time he saw something, a small animal or object, to account for it. This had the opposite effect of putting him at ease, however.

The real dangers were many and he could not stop himself from jumping at shadows. In Middle Earth Legolas would have known and understood the noises of a forest and the movement of its animals, and would not waste his energy worrying over them. The Fellowship's enemies – orcs, goblin men and bounty hunters – were too loud and too odorous to catch the elf off-guard. Even Sauron's spies were detectable when you knew what you were looking for.

Here everything was an unknown quantity. Could the animals serve as spies? Buffy admitted it was possible, but doubted Warren was clever enough to charm them. She claimed she had the ability to sense vampires and demons here, but jumped at as many shadows as Legolas. She could not be faulted for this. An elf would live as much a part of the land as the trees, and sense with the earth the arrival of something that did not belong. Buffy remained human, whatever her powers, and did not innately sense the threat level of different sounds. Therefore she could not serve as the guide Legolas craved.

The elf believed ultimately the best he could do was stay close to the Hobbits and defend against anything that came forward as an obvious attack. Yet he could not stay too close. The Ring taunted him with images of a peaceful Mirkwood, safe from harm and under his inherited rule. Ridiculous promises that felt believable. Easy to obtain if he just ran ahead. No one here could stop him…

Legolas stopped. He fell back a little more.

Then he did hear steps, loud and rushed, coming fast from behind. Without thought bow and arrow appeared in his hands, raised and ready against threat. It took a full second for him to lower the weapon as his eyes registered the figure of a familiar teen-age girl.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" She cried raising up her hands as she rushed forward. Everyone in the party stopped, turning to see.

"Dawn?!" The scorn in Buffy's voice was enough to make the Hobbits and girl flinch. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't lock you in your room forever. Do you know how many demons are out tonight? Are you _trying_ to get kidnapped again?"

"I had to warn you," she said, panting between words. "Spike got out. He's coming for the Ring. He may attack Legolas."

In spite of everything, Legolas' lip twitched slightly at the thought of another attack by Spike. The idea of someone risking her life to warn him of it seemed equally ridiculous.

"Why would Spike attack Legolas?" Buffy asked. Dawn started to explain, and as she did the whisper of the Ring grew in Legolas' mind, until he could barely hear the child's words of warning.

* * *

Jonathan couldn't sleep. The small battery clock on his nightstand reported the time as 2:42. Roughly two hours since Warren had made his big speech declaring his plans. Two hours since Jonathan had first truly understood that all the grand ideas Warren spoke of were becoming reality. Before his eyes a friend had grown into the kind of super-villain they'd always pretended to be, and it was worse than any nightmare. Jonathan felt like a victim of circumstance, forced by Warren to do his bidding as things got more and more out of control. If Jonathan could just get his hands on the Ring none of this would matter.

With the Ring he would have control for once and be able to make things better. He could send Warren (and possibly Andrew) to jail and become a leader the Scoobies looked up to. It would be exactly as it had been when he did the spell two years ago to make himself popular.

No, it wasn't just popular, he remembered now. He had been an Oscar winning movie star, a military hero, a musical genius and the prized confidante of the Scoobies. He'd lived in a mansion, with beautiful women throwing themselves at him. The details of the time under that spell had quickly faded when it ended, he'd thought forever. Now they returned forcefully and as pristine as if it had been that afternoon.

The Scoobies had come to him with every problem, demonic and personal, and he had reliably made things better. He had even – Jonathan remembered now – figured out Adam's weakness so he could be defeated. He'd had everything and the world was better for it.

Now the Ring could make it all happen again. Not with the flimsy illusion of a spell, but by enabling him to have the confidence, ability and power he needed to make his glory real.

As was he had nothing. Jonathan was weak without the Ring. He had been honest with the Scoobies about his attempt to keep Warren from the Ring in working the spell. It was Warren who found him out and forced Jonathan to use this bit of truth against the Scoobies. Warren had come up with a new and more complicated spell, and Jonathan understood his life was forfeit if he didn't go along.

The truth was Jonathan still didn't know how to send the Fellowship back. He would give anything to be able to for their sake, and knew the Ring could show him how. He would keep It here, saving Middle-Earth where It could only do harm, and using It where the Ring would do good, under Jonathan's control.

Not quite knowing his own intentions Jonathan slid out of the cot he had used for a bed the last few months. Taking care not to wake Andrew who slept nearby he padded across the basement floor and readied to open the door of the walled off section that served as Warren's bedroom.

That was when something small, wiry, and surprisingly strong tackled him. Startled he let out a cry as the thing scratched and pawed at his back. "Where is It?" a familiar voice hissed. "What have you done with the Preciousss?!"


	11. The Scent of Power

A Little Escapism

**Disclaimer:** See prologue.

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay between chapters. Really, really sorry (on the plus side I launched my own business and earned my brown belt in a martial art…so I've been a little distracted from the priority that is Fan Fiction, sorry)

A Little Escapism

Chapter Ten

"The Scent of Power"

Since the group's decision to do nothing Willow had retreated to her room, too embarrassed to be among the people she had betrayed. She wanted to do something normal. Study or read a book or anything to take her mind off of the danger they were all in.

But the Ring's whisper was strong. It knew her and that she had already been weakened by her own power. Barring absolute goodness the best defense against the Ring was a strong will, and Willow's will was now a tattered thing she held on to with threads of fear. Fear of losing herself completely to magicks no human had ever tapped into. Fear of hurting more people. In theory hope was a better motivation. Hope to reconcile with Tara, or to make up for the things she had done. Some idea of looking toward goodness in the future.

But the Ring knew better. She hadn't touched magick in three months and Tara was only just coming around, with no promises of actually returning. Her friends still looked at her with mistrust and she wasn't yet allowed alone with Dawn. Every day was a study in atonement, a torture of guilt and no guaranties anything good would come of it. The Ring knew her frustration, and that she was better than all of them. She alone had the ability for power to eclipse a Slayer and yet she spent her days begging like a dog for her friends' approval.

Willow recognized the Ring's shadow inside her. It did not create new thoughts in her, just sought to give them validation. And now she knew she could not be alone, much as the thought of company unnerved her. Not letting herself hesitate she left her room. On her way to the stairs she passed Buffy's room. The door was slightly ajar, which for some reason gave Willow pause.

An idea not quite formed in her mind as she opened the door fully. The bedroom window stood open, blowing cold winter air into the room. Buffy had escaped out that same window at least a hundred times during high school. Leaving it Willow ran downstairs, heart beating fast.

Boromir lay positioned on the couch, eyes closed. He might have been resting but Willow recognized taut lines of pain and worry in his face. Tara, Anya and Xander were gathered around the coffee table, playing a board game. It seemed strangely appropriate. An apocalypse was brewing, what else would they be doing besides playing games? What else did they ever do?

"Have you seen Dawn?" Willow asked, already knowing the answer.

"She went upstairs to check on you." Anya responded, not taking her eyes off the board. "I have Boardwalk but Xander took Park Place and he won't let me have it. How am I supposed to build my hotels?"

"I have the Marvin Gardens monopoly locked up and Pennsylvania. She's the one keeping me from the most important property on the board." Xander answered, in a voice so bitterly selfish Willow almost didn't recognize him.

"You always trade me properties so _I _can have monopolies!" Anya almost shouted. "That's how the game is fun. How can it be fun if I don't win?"

"It's not just about the properties, that's what they don't understand." Tara said. "It's also the utilities and railroads. I have all the utilities. They have to pay ten times the roll of the die."

Willow decided against telling them about Dawn. She also felt some concern for her ex-girlfriend's sense of business.

/

Dawn's arrival had altered their plans. On Buffy's insistence, preventing Spike from attaining the Ring outweighed all other needs. She laid out a new plan abruptly, without room for dissent. This was how Legolas came to recognize and understand the kind of warrior that made a Slayer.

Slayers were not leaders, though amateurs of weak will may well confuse them. Buffy dictated her orders not for the group's cohesion, but to prevent them from becoming obstacles to her goal. On an instinctual level she believed she could handle this and all situations on her own, and deeply resented the attempts of others to help – even with the proved mental and physical assets of the Fellowship.

This was at odds with her intellectual nature. As a person Buffy understood needing their help, and would never admit her true ideology. She chose to surround herself with friends who could fight at her side, and necessity raised them to her level. Buffy held on to her humanity with every ounce of strength and saw the nature of being a Slayer as something dark and fearful. However – and this Legolas saw clearly – she was strongest when alone.

This was a surprising thing for him to recognize in a member of Man. Other Elves were weary of the race for their violence and untrustworthy alliances. It seemed to them a Man's loyalty had no binding ties, flowing as water over rocks, unattached and prone to change. This was proven in the tribes of Men who fought on behalf of Sauron and Saruman, and some regarded them as susceptible to the Ring as Orcs.

However Legolas had befriended Aragorn when both were yet young, and the Prince had found qualities other Elves had not taken the chance to see. The strength of Man was most prominent in their gentleness toward others. They survived and thrived as communities. Alone and isolated Men became weak; in groups they achieved feats beyond their physical prowess. Men could not survive alone, and so it was Legolas came to know Men could be trusted, and bind their fates to an oath in ways not unlike an Elf.

So it was startling to see this was not true of Buffy. The Slayer was a variety of human individual to this world. She didn't just prefer to fight alone – she couldn't do otherwise. When presented with evils beyond her ability to overcome, the Slayer employed the use of others as strategy only on the way to her singular victory. If none were to help her in her time of need, abandoning her to die alone in battle, she would feel one emotion first and foremost: relief. Such a death was the ultimate realization of the purpose of a Slayer.

Buffy recognized this in herself and by the construct of her race saw it as wrong. She fought against her nature because she could not believe she was stronger without friends. This internal battle weakened her. For a warrior to reject their source of power was unheard of to Legolas, and he could not imagine achieving potential while resisting fate.

Buffy was the strongest foe this world could produce, and Legolas now knew how to best her should it come to that. Not that he saw her as an enemy. More like a potential obstacle, as were the other warriors present. And he understood her weakness now, as he understood the weaknesses of the others. And now he needed only to wait for the plan Buffy made to unfold.

/

They would go to Warren's. If Spike wasn't there yet, they would wait until he arrived.

The plan as Buffy laid it out made returning the Ring to Frodo their priority. Legolas was to then carry the Hobbit as swiftly as possible through Sunnydale streets back to her house.

Buffy, Aragorn and Gimli would handle Spike and the Trio, Legolas would serve as a guard outside, and Frodo would grab the Ring and run. Buffy and Aragorn would stay and find out from the Trio how to break the spell as the others escorted the Hobbits back to the house. Buffy felt that she could handle interrogating the nerds on her own, but the others insisted she have a partner.

This plan was considerably more dangerous than simply finding a talisman. The Ring was like a beacon to demons, and It was so strong now even the Hobbits felt Its pull. To carry it through Sunnydale streets at night was a terrifying proposition, no matter the guards. They didn't have a lot of time to consider other options though, and it was clear that there was no safe place when it came to the Ring.

Frodo understood this better than anyone, for he saw the hunger in his friends' eyes, and felt it in himself. They seemed to believe making him the bearer of the Ring once more would restore things somehow, make them safe. Did they not know he shared their need? He wanted the Ring for himself; to have and hold and look at and did they think he could keep It safe?

He had always wanted an adventure, to be the hero of a story, and now here he was: a small one amongst Big Folk, vulnerable to them and his own desires. He wanted the Ring back, but to carry out the mission or to simply have for himself Frodo no longer knew.

/

Spike's head throbbed at the sight of Warren's house. Part of it was continued after-effect from breaking the human's leg, part memory of the kind of foe he now faced. Taking the Ring now was not as simple as it would have been at one time.

It didn't matter. He was wired. The Ring had a smell blacker than anything the Vampire had encountered, and its effect was stronger than cocaine on his demon body. Senses sharpened. Thoughts became clear and focused on one goal.

With predatory quiet he knelt by the window that looked in on the basement. There was a light on, dim, barely illuminating the strange multi-limbed struggle within. He watched without full comprehension as a demon creature wrestled Jonathan. Warren and Andrew stood just out of reach, observing. Spike guessed they didn't have an active interest in Jonathan's survival, but thought they might have a care to kill the demon, which could only be after the Ring, and wondered why they didn't move to do something about it.

Deciding now was not the time for subtlety he went around to the door. Gathering himself for an impressive Big-Bad-style entrance, he slammed into the room. Everything stopped for a second and Spike felt his moment of surprise.

"I believe you have something of mine." He announced, leaping forward. In one smooth movement too quick for human eyes he had the demon-thing pinned to the floor, intending to snap its neck.

"Wait!!" All three members of the Trio shouted at once.

Their fervor caught Spike off-guard, causing him to hesitate. "You want it alive?" he asked, forgetting himself in his surprise, so that he waited for their direction.

"It's Gollum!" Jonathan said, at the same time the creature hissed in a pathetic sort of dying wale, "Preciouusss."

Spike looked down at the thing. Its big alien eyes looked up at him with an endearing sort of helplessness. It made Spike want to hurt it more. "Another character from the story," he guessed.

"If you hurt him we can't send the characters back! All of them have to go back together!" Andrew cried.

"That's just part of your con," Spike said. "To trap the Scoobies in Middle-Earth. I figured that out."

Warren came forward, fully in his new creepy-powerful mode. "If the Scoobies do the spell with the Fellowship, they will be sent back to Middle-Earth with them." He said with the exasperated patience of someone talking to a six-year-old. "The characters can do it by themselves and return on their own. But all of them have to do it together at the same time or it doesn't work."

"So there's no talisman?" Spike looked at Jonathan with something akin to respect. Summoning spells of this kind without the use of a talisman were complicated, making them stronger and harder to break.

Jonathan felt Spike's awe and blushed slightly with pride. "I used – " he started to say, when Warren cut him off so smoothly it was as though no one else had spoken.

"Now you're a bad guy, Spike. You know what the Ring is, what It does, and you want It for yourself. That's fine. It makes you honest, unlike the Fellowship and Scoobies who want It in that same way, only trick themselves into thinking they'd use It for some noble purpose."

Gollum made a sound half-squeal half-hiss under Spike's hands. Spike relaxed his grip slightly. "We wants It, we knows Preciousss, we needs Preciousss," he whimpered in an attempt to plead his case.

"Why don't you just kill them all, starting with this one? Why bother sending them back?" Spike asked. He felt a sort of dazed unreality, as some distant observer inside noted he was now listening to and responding to Warren as some sort of leader.

"Because I don't trust any power on this earth to do the job by tomorrow night. If you sent an army of demons Legolas and Buffy alone could probably handle them. Or the witch by herself," this last statement was made almost unconsciously, as though a deeper voice was speaking through Warren in that moment.

"And tomorrow you're taking over the world."

Warren grinned at Spike's recognition of his ambition. "Just Sunnydale. For now."

Before Spike could respond Warren drove a hard kick into his face, knocking him off Gollum. Spike rolled instinctively with the blow, coming up ready for a fight. Warren let Spike come at him with a lethal intent, and the resulting pain caught him before the Vampire could strike. Warren caught hold of Spike's arm and pulled it up behind his back almost to the breaking point.

"Did you tell the others our plan?" He demanded, shooting warning shots of pain through Spike's arm. "Do they know?"

"Yes you stupid git!" Spike grimaced. "They're on their way!" As he spoke he threw his body backwards, at the same time slipping a foot behind Warren's leg and pulling forward so that the human tripped and fell. The move itself was non-injurious and Spike was able to turn smoothly, freeing his arm and maintaining his balance as Warren landed hitting his head hard on the ugly green carpet that covered the cement basement floor. He didn't move.

Spike turned victoriously to face the remaining nerds and Gollum. Andrew and Jonathan stood where they'd been; Gollum peeked out from inside the doorway of Warren's room. "Where is It?" He asked.

No one said anything. Spike did a quick body search of Warren, and before long his fingers caught hold of something small, cool and heavy. The scent of fresh blood filled his nose, his ears buzzed with energy, his vision clouded.

This was the Ring.

Whatever ambition he'd had before was trumped by this experience. This was true Power.

Spike hadn't quite gotten hold of It when something slammed into him from the side. His fingers tightened but they'd already lost their grip and the Ring remained hidden in Warren's pocket.

Like a wild animal Spike turned to take on whatever had stopped him. For a brief second he recognized Buffy, then he was on the ground. She had fought him too many times, knew him too well, for him to stand a chance against her now. She put a foot on his throat, pressing down. Spike struggled but was helpless.

"Get It!" she shouted to someone he couldn't see.

The neutered Spike – the thing he had been for the last two years – returned then as despair and loss washed through him. He couldn't fight Buffy without the Ring. He would have killed her a thousand times over by now if he could. He was weak and powerless again. As though he had never touched the Ring.


	12. Legends Never Die

A Little Escapism

**Disclaimer:** See prologue.

**A/N: **I didn't want to post again until I had completely finished the story. However, since it's now been a year and three months since my last update I thought I should do something to show I haven't abandoned it, and it will have an ending. Soon. Please God.

A Little Escapism

Chapter Eleven

"Legends Never Die"

The Ring returned.

It slipped from Warren's pocket into Frodo's palm before thought or intention could light within the Hobbit's mind. He didn't have to search for It; the Ring beckoned like a sun, pulling him in by gravity. Whatever it meant, having the Ring back felt right somehow, as though something lacking had been restored.

Buffy had Spike on the ground. Warren was unconscious and it was clear his two accomplices were no match for Gimli and Aragorn. Frodo felt a moment of hesitation, then fled from the room.

No sooner was he out the door than Legolas grabbed him. The Elf bore him with a speed beyond Frodo's understanding over housetops and through trees, leaping lightly from one thing to another. Frodo doubted any creature could keep up with them, even so it seemed every shadow watched their flight and every noise was an approaching villain. The Hobbit squeezed his eyes tight, waiting their return to the Slayer's home.

It wasn't long before he felt himself lowered to the ground. Looking around he saw they were on the stoop outside Buffy's backdoor. He went to run inside when Legolas stopped him.

"Wait," he touched Frodo's shoulder gently. Frodo paused, expectantly. Legolas looked around a moment in some internal vexation, then said quietly. "I cannot accompany you further, Master Hobbit."

"What do you mean?"

"The Ring's call…I meant to take It from you."

It was surprising to Frodo how much he had been expecting this. After Boromir it seemed only a matter of time before the others fell to temptation. Whatever hope there may have been otherwise was erased by their arrival in Sunnydale.

"I must go now or risk great disaster. Tell Aragorn, and…" Legolas looked away, his voice faded. Then he seemed to remember himself and returned his attention. "Tell them." He said firmly.

"Wait!" Frodo cried. "We cannot return to Middle-Earth without you!"

"It has been made quite clear that was a mere hoax. I am not necessary for your return."

"I mean you can't simply disappear! What if you become stuck here without us?"

"Then Middle-Earth will be the better for my absence."

"You can't mean that!"

Legolas faced Frodo fully, his eyes piercing. In that gaze Frodo saw everything the Elf was holding back, and the naked desire shook him to his core. "It is too late. Should I see you again I will take the Ring, if not your life."

With that Legolas disappeared into the night. Frodo stared after him and would have remained long, but the Ring weighed in his hand and he felt the shadows keenly. He ran quickly into the house, wondering how safe any of them were. The Ring would break the Fellowship, of this he always knew, but to do it here seemed deeply wrong. This land contained the very mouth of hell, what chance had they with their bonds severed and the Ring so strong?

//

Spike was tied to a chair. Simple ropes, but Buffy had tied them with her usual skill, and he would suffer a new injury if he broke his bonds. He contented himself instead with glaring menacingly at the Trio, who had the good grace to still be afraid of him.

Warren had regained consciousness and was laying on the couch, holding an ice pack to his head. It was amazing how quickly he had lost the menace lent by the Ring. He was suddenly every bit the outcast nerd they had all come to despise, and seemed to understand he no longer had the upper hand. Jonathan and Andrew sat on either side of him, like guilty defendents awaiting their sentencing.

"We have the Ring now," Buffy said. "Any one of you tries to get It back and you all die. Do I make myself clear?"

The three nodded eagerly.

"Good. Since this latest attempt to take over Sunnydale has failed and I've lost all qualms about killing you, I suggest you tell us how to reverse the spell. Now."

Jonathan sat forward, with a slightly nervous glance in Warren's direction. "It's the book. I used the book as a talisman. Only, the thing is, you can't destroy it to end the spell like normal. Because there are so many copies."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the story itself - the narrative - is the source of the spell. I used a copy of the book we had, but the spell kind of took over. In order to get everyone here in such a physical way, it drew on the collective energy of the very genre itself. I mean, everything related to L-o-t-R fed into this spell. Dungeons and Dragons, the movies, all the fan writings, everything. It turned out so that the way this story lives in our imaginations is the Talisman. To break this spell, you'd have to destroy the entire world's knowledge of 'Lord of the Rings', not just every book, writing, movie and game related to it."

"Are legends so easily destroyed here?" Aragorn asked. "Can they be erased so keenly and so swiftly?"

"Um, no. I think the point is it's not possible," Buffy said. "So we can't break the spell. What are the other options?"

"Well...there's the other spell. The one that would have...would have..." Jonathan swallowed uncomfortably.

"Would have trapped us in Middle-Earth with them," Buffy prompted.

"Right. I think it can be done just with them. Some variety where just the Fellowship disappears."

"What do you mean you think? You're not sure?"

"Well...the other one would've worked because we planned to keep the Ring on this side, therefore it doesn't entirely reverse the first spell. I don't think the first spell can be reversed completely, it's so powerful. We'll have to find a compromise around it."

Spike felt a piercing stab of pain suddenly and without warning in his chest, as a bolt of red fire shot upward, from the center of his heart into his brain. He gasped and fell forward in shocking pain. He didn't think he'd cried out, but he must have for suddenly everyone was looking at him.

"Are you all right?" Buffy was at his side, acting like she cared.

"I'm...I'm..." Spike wanted to speak, say something, but the red bolt flared again, covering the room in a crimson haze. He collapsed forward.

//

Legolas was in the now familiar forest of Sunnydale, letting his head clear. He felt a call northward, could sense an ancient pulse of Song carried by trees not yet met, but resisted. He was not yet himself, and dared not let such trees sense his darkness for their rejection would be overwhelming.

Rather he stayed where he was. This forest knew darkness, sensed its strain within him, and was gentle to it. However far he had fallen in ambition for the Ring, this forest still called him friend, for he yet served as a sharp contrast to the Hellmouth.

He drifted among the highest branches of the tallest trees, recognizing the stars above as friends, wanting some return to sanity. The Ring's thrum had not yet faded from his ears, the weight still pulled at his heart. Images appeared unbidden in his eyes of a free Mirkwood, safe from Shadow and guided by his rule with the Ring.

It was painful to hold such thoughts, to feel this wanting. Painful. The word suddenly seemed to lift forward and attack. He felt a bold of red fire shoot upward, in a clear line from the center of his heart into his head. The pain was agonizing. Legolas stumbled from his branch and fell onto a limb below. He barely kept his feet in the landing, so intense and surprising was this pain.

A red haze began to fill his vision. Legolas drew breath through it, keeping his body steady. _What is this? What is this?_ his _faer_ cried in panic.

Answer came forward, as a light of wind through the trees. _Your connection to the lesser is taking hold._

Then, abruptly, his vision cleared, the pain eased. The attack had weakened him and his senses seemed stifled, he no longer heard the trees as he breathed. The air was too hard in his nostrils, each breath more difficult than the last. He let his body guide him back the way he had come. The message seemed clear, and the implications terrifying.

//

Buffy looked with impatience at the limp form of her recent paramour. Spike had been a nuisance to her ever since he first arrived in Sunnydale. True, he had been a somewhat formidable foe at first, but even then she was more annoyed about having to deal with another big Vampire than afraid. It seemed he was always a problem in the back of her mind, something to deal with. The turns of their relationship had only intensified this sense.

Spike physically represented the dark corners of Buffy's life, the things that separated her from her friends. Since being brought back to life so unfairly by Willow, Buffy had carried a heaviness in her heart, a dark grayness that had no home on earth. Spike fit this feeling perfectly, and lived in her mind as a character of herself, the dark depression that clouded her life.

Having him pass out in pain now, in the midst of an interrogation that would hopefully end the current Sunnydale crisis, felt like more distraction. Evidence that whatever she did, Spike would always be there, draining her energy, an enigmatic dilemma with no real purpose aside from complicating an already difficult life. She could drive a stake through his heart now and be done with the situation, but she didn't think that would solve her problem. Moral quandaries came up then, and she realized that whatever else, she did care for Spike in some way. He had been there for her when others couldn't be. She kind of liked him.

So instead she returned attention to the Trio. Gollum had been chained to a pipe along the basement wall and seemed subdued, whimpering occasionally but mostly forgettable. "Is Spike okay?" Andrew asked.

"If he turns to dust in the next ten minutes, we'll know," Buffy answered. "In the meantime, you were suggesting a compromise?"

"I don't know if we really can." Jonathan said. "I mean, Warren was able to think up the other spell using the Ring. We'd need help to think of another way around it."

"It seems we are not to learn any more alone here." Aragorn said. "We should rejoin our number and see if there are insights to be gained with the others present. Take them prisoner, and let those with learning of magic hear their tale."

"We'll have to take Gollum too," Gimli grumbled. "Else he'll break free and track us all to kill us."

"And we should bring Spike," Buffy sighed. "Whatever's going on with him is probably related to this whole mess."

"Five prisoners to transport and three of us to guard. The chances for peril are mighty." Aragorn said.

"Which is why we're going in their van." Buffy said. "Ample room."

//

It was a cramped and unpleasant ride back to the house. Jonathan drove under the vigilant eye of Gimli. Warren and Andrew were tied together in the back. Gollum was chained and unconscious, thanks to a blow from Gimli's axe. Spike also remained unconscious, though occasionally his body would spasm in an unexplained tremor. Buffy watched him more than the others, and was aware of anxiety for his fate. It was a burden to care about him, but in this moment she couldn't deny that she did.

It pissed her off.

//

Spike woke in Buffy's basement. He was laying on his back, hands and feet tied together. He felt okay now. In fact, far better than before. Looking down he saw the wounds wrought by the night had magically healed, without any trace of scarring. His mind was clear and sharp, he could detect the scent and sound of every person in the house. His senses bore ten times the clarity which came from feasting on a Slayer. He'd never been so present as at this moment.

Dawn was upstairs, writing in her journal in her room. Frodo was also upstairs, awake in Willow's room. Merry and Pippin were with him, both asleep. Samwise was in the kitchen with Willow, cooking potatoes that might actually taste good, even to a Vampire.

Buffy was here in the basement with him, but she hadn't noticed Spike waken. Her focus was on the Trio, who sat in a row against the far wall, not chained but intimidated. Tara, Anya, Xander, Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir were all present, all equally attentive to the prisoners of interest. Gollum was forgotten like Spike, chained by the neck to a wood beam and quietly suffering.

Legolas was outside the front door of the house. He was pacing and distraught. Losing energy. In a flash, Spike understood. With a silence that extended beyond Vampire ability he easily loosened his bonds and slipped free. He ran up the stairs of the basement, unseen and unheard.

The living room was empty, though he could hear Sam advising Willow on how the timing of when one added which seasonings affected the flavor. Spike guessed the Hobbit could easily become a millionaire with his own cooking show, if returning to Middle-Earth didn't work out.

Spike slipped out the front door, timed so that Legolas was turned away from him. He grabbed the Elf, covering his mouth. Legolas struggled but his strength was weakened, siphoned from himself into the Vampire.

The scent was intoxicating, and Spike was tempted to finish what the effects wrought by Jonathan's spell had started. Instead he hissed in his ear, "If you want this over and to return to Middle-Earth free of the Ring, do exactly as I say."

Legolas relaxed against him. And listened.


End file.
